The Red Butterfly, Part Nine – Go, Dog!
Short Story We were silent as we walked, the only sounds coming from roving packs of wild dogs who first sniveled and begged at us, then growled when food was not forthcoming. “Vete perro,...
Author: Sergio Remon Alvarez
The Red Butterfly, Part Eighteen – Te Pareces A Tú Padre
Short Story Those words; He is your father. Was it betrayal? Even now, all of these years later, I cannot say that I felt betrayed. I did not thrash about, scream; throw a fit. Maybe...
The Red Butterfly, Part Seventeen – There Was Nothing
Short Story There was a loud bang and a sudden blast of cold air. I looked towards the source of the noise. The door to Candela was flung open and on the threshold stood...
The Red Butterfly, Part Sixteen – Not For Tourists
Short Story She was right; there would be no dancing tonight. This was traditional flamenco. “This song is called Bulerias por Solea,” said Anna, “es muy antigua.” This was the old stuff, what had...
The Red Butterfly, Part Fifteen – Starve or Live on Whiskey
Short Story A man began to sing el Cante Jondo, The Deep Song, his voice like a volcano eruption. How can I properly explain the sound coming from this man‘s face? Once, while stationed...
The Red Butterfly, Part Fourteen – Friend of the Abraham Lincoln Battalion
Short Story On the back of the photograph, written in pencil, were the words Robert J, 1937, Escorial España. I took the photograph and left the study. I went to my room and laid...
The Red Butterfly, Part Thirteen – He Looked Hungry, He Looked Happy
Short Story After the Civil War ended, my mother and I fled to the United States. New York City was the golden jewel, and we arrived there first. But finding that it reminded her...
Slow Travel: Cuba, Before I Go
Travel Stories In February, I received an email from Dave Ambrosio, inviting me to come to Havana with him to study Cuban folkloric music. We would be staying in the home of percussionist Miguel...
The Red Butterfly, Part Twelve – Chip
Short Story The man I knew as my father was an airplane mechanic with Boeing named Charleston-but everyone called him Chip. He was tall and paunchy and bald, with a perfect ring of black...
A Poem About Rejection
Poem Another rejection Letter And soon I will have Enough rejections Slips Piling on the floor that they will form a Mountain For me to climb On the peak I will plant my flag...
The Red Butterfly, Part Eleven – A War Worth Fighting
Short Story The music had begun. Anna kissed the old horse-faced man on both cheeks, then gave him a hug. She must know him, I thought. The Horse-faced man disappeared into the crowd that...
