A good mate of mine, whose nom de plume is Pinguino Frog, wrote a short story which seems appropriate for the Día de los Muertos. He posted in in Spanish here in his blog. And since it’s all in the present tense and not too tricky I gave it the translation treatment.

Here’s the first paragraph:

They have arrived; I can feel them, their cold, their pain, their solitude. They wake me, brushing against my shoulder. It’s past 12 o’clock they inform me. With some difficulty I open my eyes and see them floating, there, at the side of my bed. They have arrived, they have arrived to give me a message from the other side, they have come to tell me that the dead are worried, that they are worried because I am getting dangerously close to their borders. They talk to me in an unknown language that all the same I understand perfectly. I sit on the edge of my bed to see them better, I rub my eyes to make sure that they aren’t merely some kind of trick. The spectres are completely unknown to me, not even by straining to see them better can I identify them; who they might be. I cannot avoid comparing this apparition with Dickens. I can’t help feeling like a Scrooge, victim of three Christmas spirits, even though, those who visit me number five.

Download the whole 5 page short story here (PDF 97k) . Not for the squeamish…