Fall 1969 • Vol. XXXI No. 5 FictionJanuary 1, 1969 |

The Outing of the Dead Schoolgirls

"No, I've come from much farther away. From Europe." man laughed as though I had replied: "From the moon." He kept the pulquería at the far end of the village. Stepping back from the table and leaning motionless against the wall, he began looking me up and down as if searching for signs of the strange events that had brought me here. Suddenly it seemed to me just as extraordinary as to him that I had been driven all the way from Europe to Mexico. The village was surrounded like a fortress by palisades of organ cacti. Through a gap I could see into the steep, green-gray mountains, and the mere sight of these barren, wild slopes that might have been part of a lunar landscape defied every suspicion that anything could ever live there. Two pepper trees were glowing at the edge of an utterly desolate gorge. Even they seemed to be on fire rather than in bloom. The innkeeper was squatting now on the ground beneath the enormous shadow of his hat. He had stopped looking at me; neither t

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Three A.M.

By Richard Dankleff

"No, I've come from much farther away. From Europe." man laughed as though I had replied: "From the moon." He kept the pulquería at the far end of the village. […]

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