The three of us sit together in my backyard, beer bottles spread all around our little triangle. Leftover garbage from the sandwiches we ate earlier accompany those same beer bottles. I personally prefer Modelo, but all Santiago managed to bring us were some lukewarm, probably decade-old, Mexican beers that tasted
How Does the Story End? Read More »
“Play with me,” it said. I stirred in my bed, my eyes drowsy and heavy. A yawn blew out of my mouth. I was seconds away from falling deep into my dreams, but the voice shook me back to reality. “Play with me,” it repeated, a child’s voice. One that
I am not too proud of what my family has done in the past, and this especially goes out to my ancestors. The reason why I find myself strolling through the woods as the blazing day drifts into the ominous night is because of what my past predecessors had the
