Nuevatribuna publishes the winning stories of the Atocha Law
Feb 28, 2024 0:01:19 GMT -6
Post by shakhar24 on Feb 28, 2024 0:01:19 GMT -6
Every year the Abogados de Atocha Foundation organizes the Young Abogados de Atocha International Fiction Prize, which is attended by a good number of stories, written by young people under the age of from all corners of Spain and a good number of Latin American countries. This year, in the vicinity of the commemoration of the murder of the Atocha Lawyers, on the th anniversary of that January when a group of far-right gunmen attacked the headquarters of the labor law firm on Atocha Street and opened fire killing five people and injuring four others, the Atocha Lawyers Foundation has once again released the winning stories of the Award, in its V edition of . atocha lawyers Courtesy of the Foundation, Nuevatribuna publishes the three winning stories of the literary contest. The jury of the Atocha Lawyers Award, made up of writers, union members and trustees of the Foundation, has chosen the following stories: First Prize: 'Infierno' , by Cristina Pozo Palenzuela, residing in Valladolid.
Second Prize: 'The end of the railings' , by Pablo López Camiña, residing in Oviedo. Third Prize: 'Cánticos justicieros' , by Carmen Galván Bernabé, domiciled in Alicante. The three stories are very different and address very diverse topics. From the irreparable C Level Executive List effects of a war, to the social inequality staged on the railings of homes, to the independence of justice above public opinion, or the parallel trials of the media or the fired-up masses. The three stories respond to the challenge set in each call regarding the free choice of the topic, and must have, in any case, some relationship with the values of justice, solidarity, freedom, or equality, which the Atocha Lawyers defended. . HELL hell The horror. They no longer felt. They were no longer there. They weren't anymore. Just ghosts. Souls in pain condemned for sins they did not commit.
The river was covered with charred bodies, floating like flesh lilies. They were dissolving like salt in water that looked like oil. A jet-black rain made holes in his bones as if they were plasticine. Hana continued to advance, in panic, bewilderment, desperation and loneliness. A faceless figure, hopping clumsily over the pile of ashes that covered the floor, approached him with outstretched arms. Although a scrap of irrational rationality in her sequestered mind warned her that she might be a jiangshi , she neither changed her trajectory nor quickened her pace. All the life that she wanted to take from her had already disappeared minutes ago. There was only an empty carcass that was walking around out of mere habit.