BOOKSTORE | LIBRERÍA

BOOKSTORE | LIBRERÍA

For those interested in supporting and promoting my poetry and fiction, I’ve added a new page BOOKSTORE | LIBRERÍA to luissamuelgonzalezacevedo.com. Please visit, share & support. Thank you!


Para aquellos interesados en apoyar y promover mi poesía y ficción, añadí una página nueva BOOKSTORE | LIBRERÍA a luissamuelgonzalezacevedo.com. Agradezco que la visite, comparta y apoye. ¡Gracias!


 

Story… María’s Island

María’s Island

–May 16, 2018–

by Luis S. González-Acevedo


Anton Cortázar Toledo quivers in front of the urinal, steps back, and pulls on the cold lever. Waters rush down its porcelain back, disturbing the fresh blot of yellow like a cleansing waterfall.

“Boarding for Flight 920 to Orlando will begin shortly. Please have your boarding pass ready.”

Anton moves quickly toward the lavatory. After wetting his hands with lukewarm water, he positions them under the automatic soap dispenser, wets again, and rubs vigorously. The sight of the baptismal liquid washing away the tainted suds intrigues him.

The hand drier starts automatically as his fingers slide steadily back and forth below the vent. “Good as new,” he celebrates under his breath.

“Good afternoon,” says the stranger stepping up to dry his hands.

“Buenas tardes,” Anton replies in native Spanish.

The man leans in a little, as if confused, but eventually smiles and nods.

“Good afternoon,” Anton adds –in English– as he walks away.

As he steps out of the restroom, he can’t help but notice the digital clock with bright numbers on the wall –an acute awareness of time confronts him. Near the gate, passengers continue to line up as Anton moves toward the end of the line.

He greets an approaching American couple with familiar warmth. They glance at him with little interest, saying nothing. Red-cheeked, he moves forward with the line, tugging along his carry-on.

| | |

Anton sits on the floor, next to his luggage. He pulls out a puzzle, a souvenir he picked up near Laguna del Condado. The puzzle conjures the smell of the lagoon’s troubled waters. He carefully selects a piece from the box and lays it over a previously assembled cluster. It seems right, but doesn’t settle perfectly. It’s slightly forced. He scatters the remaining pieces but doesn’t find one that’s more fitting. Given the piece’s shape and colors, it appears to be the only possibility. He presses gently, again, but the cluster doesn’t give naturally. Steam rises from within, and his chest inflates and deflates precipitously. His temples play a soft rhythm.

Groping himself with uncertainty, Anton pulls out a phone from his blazer’s inner pocket. No emails. No texts. No voicemails. The empty inboxes don’t surprise him, but he’s disappointed that he hasn’t heard back on the promotion. He clears his head, refocusing…

The woman standing nearby holds him captive with her mere existence. She sobs delicately. Silently… Her shoulders shimmy.

“She must be dear to someone,” he thinks.

“Someone staying?”

“Someone waiting?”

Her head sinks. His eyes are locked. He studies her meticulously, intensifying the quest for truth. His eyes pause briefly on the tag attached to the oversized bag between her elbow and torso, “María C. Burgos García.” She stands hunched, face drawn to the floor while cupping her mouth and nose with a trembling hand.

María’s breathing hops as she tries to catch her breath between private sobs. These vital moments unfold under Anton’s microscope…

“She’s torn,” he concludes.

“She weighs what she leaves behind against what awaits.”

“Who? What does she leave behind?”

“What? Who claims her in Orlando?”

“Should she stay?”

“Go?”

“Only she knows.”

| | |

“Ladies and gentlemen, boarding for Flight 920 to Orlando has been delayed. Please stand by for further instructions.”

Some passengers scatter about, but María remains rooted. She keeps to herself, eyes fixed on the cinematic images reflected from the waxed floor. Anton sits on the seat closest to his place in line. From there, he witnesses the wet trails coming to life on her face.

Anton’s eyes shift to his phone, not wanting to be too obvious with his observations. He taps a random app and skims quickly through a myriad of senseless posts.

María reignites his interest.

Gazing surreptitiously at her, he thinks: “Go or stay?”

Anton stares pensively at the gate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin boarding Flight 920 to Orlando.”

Turning away from the gate, his eyes rush down the long white corridor, cleansing his soul as they run. They’re drawn to Avenida Ashford by the lagoon.

His phone chimes. He checks his email:

“From: Stewart, Jack
To: Cortazar-Toledo, Anton; Frustrada, Jane; Mizphits, Jared
Date: Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Anton, Jane, Jared,

I just received news that you have been promoted.
Congratulations!!!

Jack Stewart
Director, Human Resources”

“Stay or go?” he asks himself, as if demanding an answer.

María looks back at him with smiling, brown eyes as she quickly retraces her steps.

“She’s choosing to stay,” he says with amusement and some emotion –his voice breaking. The small crowd nearby stares at him –bewildered.

His breathing settles. He’s relieved and at peace, maybe for the first time in decades. He understands. He understands her… Anton taps [delete].

Tossing his boarding pass into the trash on his way down the corridor, he follows María toward any dreamful possibilities floating in his lagoon.


María’s Island will appear in a future book of poems and stories (release date | July 2020)–



 

Announcement / Anuncio | Complete Poems / Poemas Completos

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English:

Only selected verses of my already published poems appear on this website. From today onward, I will post the complete poems on this website in the order that they were originally published on the site.  I hope you enjoy them.

–Luis S. González-Acevedo

Español:

Sólo los versos selectos de poemas previamente publicados en libros aparecen en este espacio. A partir de hoy, comenzaré a publicar los poemas en su totalidad en el orden que fueron publicados originalmente en esta plataforma. Espero que los disfruten.

–Luis S. González-Acevedo


 

And… What now? | Y… ¿Ahora qué?

And… What now?

stories of a beautiful haunting (series written in English)

Currently, I’m working on two literary projects. First, I’m editing my series stories of a beautiful haunting.  The first part –stories of a beautiful haunting: surreal | One– may be released later this year, around December. The second part –stories of a beautiful haunting: surreal | Two– will be released by June 2019. Once these two installments are released, I will move on to editing the prequel to stories of a beautiful haunting: surreal; and by December 2019, I hope to release stories of a beautiful haunting: genesis | One, followed up by stories of a beautiful haunting: genesis | Two by June 2020.

I’m also working on my third book of poems. I hope to release this bilingual book by December 2019 (English/Spanish). The book is dedicated to the island of Puerto Rico, my home. In a recent conversation, I admitted that my gravest mistake was ever moving from the island. I hope to begin to “write” my wrong with this book. The poems will reflect on Puerto Rico’s current events, more recent & past history, and its disastrous, detrimental, and colonial relationship with the United States.

–Luis S. González-Acevedo


DSC_0055


Y… ¿Ahora qué?

stories of a beautiful haunting (serie escrita en inglés)

Actualmente, estoy completando dos proyectos literarios. Primeramente, estoy editando mi serie stories of a beautiful haunting (en inglés). La primera parte –stories of a beautiful haunting: surreal | One– estará disponible antes de diciembre de 2018. La segunda parte –stories of a beautiful haunting: surreal | Two– estará disponible antes de junio de 2019. Una vez estos dos libros estén disponibles, editaré las precuelas de stories of a beautiful haunting: surreal. Antes de diciembre de 2019, espero publicar stories of a beautiful haunting: genesis | One, seguida por stories of a beautiful haunting: genesis | Two por junio de 2020.

También estoy escribiendo mi tercer poemario. Espero publicar este poemario bilingüe antes de diciembre de 2019 (inglés/español). El libro será dedicado a la isla de Puerto Rico, mi hogar. En una conversación reciente, admití que mi peor error fue mudarme de la isla. Espero empezar a corregir este error con este poemario. Los poemas reflejarán eventos actuales en Puerto Rico, al igual que pensamientos y opiniones sobre su historia presente y pasada, y su relación desastrosa, perjudicial, y colonial con los Estados Unidos de América.

–Luis S. González-Acevedo

María’s Island (short story) | Post-Hurricane Flash Fiction

María’s Island” will appear in a collection of poems & short stories by Luis S. González-Acevedo (release: 2019-2020)DSC_0055


 

María’s Island

hurricane-earth-satellite-tracking-71116.jpegAnton Cortázar Toledo quivers in front of the urinal, steps back, and pulls on the cold lever. Waters rush down its porcelain back, disturbing the fresh blot of yellow like a cleansing waterfall.

“Boarding for Flight 920 to Orlando will begin shortly. Please have your boarding pass ready.”

Anton moves quickly toward the lavatory. After wetting his hands with lukewarm water, he positions them under the automatic soap dispenser, wets again, and rubs vigorously. The sight of the baptismal liquid washing away the tainted suds intrigues him.

The hand drier starts automatically as his fingers slide steadily back and forth below the vent. “Good as new,” he celebrates under his breath.

“Good afternoon,” says the stranger stepping up to dry his hands.

“Buenas tardes,” Anton replies in native Spanish.

The man leans in a little, as if confused, but eventually smiles and nods.

“Good afternoon,” Anton adds –in English– as he walks away.

As he steps out of the restroom, he can’t help but notice the digital clock with bright numbers on the wall –an acute awareness of time confronts him.

Near the gate, passengers continue to line up as Anton moves toward the end of the line.

He greets an approaching American couple with familiar warmth. They glance at him with little interest, saying nothing. Red-cheeked, he moves forward with the line, tugging along his carry-on.

 

| | |

 

Anton sits on the floor, next to his luggage. He pulls out a puzzle, a souvenir he picked up near Laguna del Condado. The puzzle conjures the smell of the lagoon’s troubled waters. He carefully selects a piece from the box and lays it over a previously assembled cluster. It seems right, but doesn’t settle perfectly. It’s slightly forced. He scatters the remaining pieces but doesn’t find one that’s more fitting. Given the piece’s shape and colors, it appears to be the only possibility. He presses gently, again, but the cluster doesn’t give naturally. Steam rises from within, and his chest inflates and deflates precipitously. His temples play a soft rhythm.

Groping himself with uncertainty, Anton pulls out a phone from his blazer’s inner pocket. No emails. No texts. No voicemails. The empty inboxes don’t surprise him, but he’s disappointed that he hasn’t heard back on the promotion. He clears his head, refocusing…

The woman standing nearby holds him captive with her mere existence. She sobs delicately. Silently… Her shoulders shimmy.

“She must be dear to someone,” he thinks.

“Someone staying?”

“Someone waiting?”

Her head sinks. His eyes are locked. He studies her meticulously, intensifying the quest for truth. His eyes pause briefly on the tag attached to the oversized bag between her elbow and torso, “María C. Burgos García.” She stands hunched, face drawn to the floor while cupping her mouth and nose with a trembling hand.

María’s breathing hops as she tries to catch her breath between private sobs. These vital moments unfold under Anton’s microscope…

“She’s torn,” he concludes.

“She weighs what she leaves behind against what awaits.”

“Who? What does she leave behind?”

“What? Who claims her in Orlando?”

“Should she stay?”

“Go?”

“Only she knows.”

 

| | |

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, boarding for Flight 920 to Orlando has been delayed. Please stand by for further instructions.”

Some passengers scatter about, but María remains rooted. She keeps to herself, eyes fixed on the cinematic images reflected from the waxed floor. Anton sits on the seat closest to his place in line. From there, he witnesses the wet trails coming to life on her face.

Anton’s eyes shift to his phone, not wanting to be too obvious with his observations. He taps a random app and skims quickly through a myriad of senseless posts.

María reignites his interest.

Gazing surreptitiously at her, he thinks: “Go or stay?”

Anton stares pensively at the gate.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin boarding Flight 920 to Orlando.”

Turning away from the gate, his eyes rush down the long white corridor, cleansing his soul as they run. They’re drawn to Avenida Ashford by the lagoon.

His phone chimes. He checks his email:

 

“From: Stewart, Jack

To: Cortazar-Toledo, Anton; Frustrada, Jane; Mizphits, Jared

Date: Tuesday, September 19, 2017

 

Anton, Jane, Jared,

I just received news that you have been promoted.

Congratulations!!!

Jack Stewart

Director, Human Resources”

 

“Stay or go?” he asks himself, as if demanding an answer.

María looks back at him with smiling, brown eyes as she quickly retraces her steps.

“She’s choosing to stay,” he says with amusement and some emotion –his voice breaking. The small crowd nearby stares at him –bewildered.

His breathing settles. He’s relieved and at peace, maybe for the first time in decades. He understands. He understands her…  Anton taps [delete].

Tossing his boarding pass into the trash on his way down the corridor, he follows María toward any dreamful possibilities floating in his lagoon.

–by Luis S. González-Acevedo