COOKIE
Published October 5 2015 in Story Club Magazine
I was fifteen years old when my family moved from Guatemala to Uptown, Chicago. On my first day in Chicago I befriend some Mexican kids who offered to show me around the neighborhood, especially Chicago’s famous lake shore.
I got really excited and I told them in perfect Guatemalan lingo, “Vamos a chingar la pita,” which to me meant nothing more than, “Let’s go have some fun.” Unknown to me, my, “Vamos a chingar la pita,” to these Mexican kids meant something more like: “Let’s go fuck some bitches.”
Talk about first impressions. I had just met these kids and they probably thought that I was crazy...
( Click here to read the rest of the story )
Published October 5 2015 in Story Club Magazine
I was fifteen years old when my family moved from Guatemala to Uptown, Chicago. On my first day in Chicago I befriend some Mexican kids who offered to show me around the neighborhood, especially Chicago’s famous lake shore.
I got really excited and I told them in perfect Guatemalan lingo, “Vamos a chingar la pita,” which to me meant nothing more than, “Let’s go have some fun.” Unknown to me, my, “Vamos a chingar la pita,” to these Mexican kids meant something more like: “Let’s go fuck some bitches.”
Talk about first impressions. I had just met these kids and they probably thought that I was crazy...
( Click here to read the rest of the story )
BRUJA
Published February 8, 2017 in Story Club Magazine
I was 12 years old, playing tag with my two sisters at home in the backyard. When I talk about my sisters I am referring to my biological sister who was one year older than me, and my cousin who had been living with us for about five years, who we considered not our cousin, but our sister.
Suddenly, our game of tag was interrupted by loud voices coming from inside the house. Then the noises turned to screams – there was an argument taking place.
My mother was arguing with her sister, my aunt, who had suddenly had a change of heart after five years and wanted her daughter back. My mom was having none of that.
( Click here to read the rest of the story )
Published February 8, 2017 in Story Club Magazine
I was 12 years old, playing tag with my two sisters at home in the backyard. When I talk about my sisters I am referring to my biological sister who was one year older than me, and my cousin who had been living with us for about five years, who we considered not our cousin, but our sister.
Suddenly, our game of tag was interrupted by loud voices coming from inside the house. Then the noises turned to screams – there was an argument taking place.
My mother was arguing with her sister, my aunt, who had suddenly had a change of heart after five years and wanted her daughter back. My mom was having none of that.
( Click here to read the rest of the story )
