I’d been planted behind a newspaper in the lobby of the Four Seasons for hours. Outside a fiesta of some sort was underway. Mexican flags and red, green and white banners where everywhere. I prayed he wouldn’t come out of the elevator and walk into the growing crowd outside.

Elisa’s voice cracked in my ear. She was undercover as a maid on his floor. “He’s moving,” she said. I felt a surge of adrenalin and sat up, ready for anything. Anything except the crowd outside where tracking him would be impossible . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “Fiesta.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “Fiesta”

  1. Fiesta is a restaurant in the galeria where ricas meet for lunch and shopping. Fiesta is a celebration with tacos at my son’s school where they learn the hat dance. Fiesta is the frozen enchilada entree, the economy car, the tri-color splash of vegetables mexicanos in the senior center. Fiesta is the swing of the stick at the pinata, the blind reaching for contact, the explosion of sweets.

  2. Vibrant red, yellow, and blue skirts formed billowing circles as dancers stomped to the music. Swirling colors faded into swirling clouds of dust and piñata confetti that stung her eyes, glued to her clammy skin, and choked her throat. The swirling, swirling…“Let’s go, mija. You’ve made yourself sick on candy.”

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