
The Sierra Waits for No One
La sierra no espera
Twelve hours. One liver. A hurricane between them and the sea.
Read a sample of La sierra no esperaMexican Spanish Stories by Poyraz Demir
Get caught up in the story. Keep the English close.
Novellas for intermediate readers, with an English translation after every Spanish paragraph.
Spanish & English B1-B2 readers
Mountains, deserts, a city under ash. Pick the place
you want to disappear into.

The Sierra Waits for No One
Twelve hours. One liver. A hurricane between them and the sea.
Read a sample of La sierra no espera
What the Ice Gives Back
Six years ago, mountain guide Renata Ibarra lost her partner on Pico de Orizaba.
Read a sample of Lo que devuelve el hielo
Light Feet
142 stumps where the permit allows twenty. One witness, dead by morning.
Read a sample of Pies ligeros
Under the Ash
The one station that should be screaming shows perfect calm.
Read a sample of Bajo la ceniza
The Sunless River
Ten years ago he left his best friend in a flooded passage eight hundred meters underground.
Read a sample of El río sin sol

The Green Silence
She put the plane down on a river. Now the only way out is downstream.
Read a sample of El silencio verde
The Last Barrel
A stolen Virgin. A tequila baron. One night to get her back.
Read a sample of El último barril
Where the Stone Breathes
Six miners trapped. The water is rising. The only way out was sealed six days ago.
Read a sample of Donde respira la piedraRead the Spanish paragraph. Follow the action. When a word holds you up, check the English beside it and keep going.
These novellas are written for adults at an intermediate level. Each story has 12 chapters, with Mexican Spanish in context.
Try the parallel textEs la una y media de la mañana en Durango, y Valeria Quiñones sostiene la mano de una mujer que acaba de perder a su hijo. Están sentadas en una salita sin ventanas del Hospital General, con una caja de pañuelos entre las dos y un café que nadie toca. La mujer se llama Rosa. Su hijo, Emiliano, tenía diecinueve años y una moto roja, y anoche, a las nueve, en la curva de La Ferrería, la moto y él se separaron para siempre. Ahora Emiliano respira solo porque una máquina respira por él. Su cerebro ya no está.
It is half past one in the morning in Durango, and Valeria Quiñones is holding the hand of a woman who has just lost her son. They are sitting in a small windowless room at the General Hospital, with a box of tissues between them and a coffee nobody touches. The woman’s name is Rosa. Her son, Emiliano, was nineteen and had a red motorcycle, and last night at nine, on the curve at La Ferrería, he and the motorcycle parted ways forever. Now Emiliano breathes only because a machine breathes for him. His brain is gone.