L.L. Madrid


L.L. Madrid lives in Tucson where she can smell the rain before it falls. She resides with her daughter, an odd cat, and on occasion, a scorpion or two. She likes food spicy, beer sour, and words whispered.

She was awarded Alternating Current's 2017 Luminaire Award for Best Prose for her short story, Ephemeral Girls.

Aiming for God is nominated for Best of the Net 2017.

Summertime Dusk won 101 Word's 17th writing contest.

What Groupon Says was nominated for Best Small Fictions 2016.

Her short story, "The Rat Girl of Saint Bruno's," received honorable mention in The Speculative Literature Foundation's 2015 Working Class Writers Grant.

When she's not writing her own stories, she's reading for Speculative 66, where she is Editor-In-Chief. (http://speculative66.weebly.com/)
Look for L.L. Madrid's forthcoming story Aural Love, in Factor Four Magazine.
Links to additional stories can be found at her website.

United States of America


borrowed solace

Pretend it isn't Destiny

The Coil

Ephemeral Girls

In seventeen years, little has changed on Catalina Avenue. The cars that line the narrow, curling street are coated year-round with desert dust. Old pictures reveal that our...

Devilfish Review

Red Touches Yellow by L.L. Madrid

Though lifeless, the onyx eye of the mourning dove reflects dawn's sunburst. My sister Vera discovered the bird, and she wants to know what I think of it. We sip from mugs of...

Likely Red

Aiming For God by L.L. Madrid

An alert chimes on my phone. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I react instantly. It takes only a swift click to read the breaking news. Active shooter. Fifteen to twenty hostages....


Bottle Caps

Mara twisted the lid from the old pickle jar, releasing its tangle of vinegar, yeast, and rust. She reached in and plucked out the first bottle cap. Heineken green....


Tiny Stitches

Tiny Stitches Few people in the world find growth charts as interesting as I do. Madeline certainly doesn't. She's my half-sister and my favorite person. Even though I'm seven...


Music from the B-side by L.L. Madrid | Bartleby Snopes

To occupy my mind, I play the only game I can. Lenses. Pretending my eyes are twin cameras I pan them from my left side peripheral to my right and select my target. Today it's...

Jersey Devil Press

Here Fishing

Here Fishing Every Sunday my grandfather fishes at Ripple Pond. It’s an old habit, one anchored in boyhood. His mother allowed him to forgo church for fishing, as he was more...

Reflex Fiction

Wild Bruises and Mechanical Birds in the Blackened Hours by L L Madrid - Reflex Fiction

Every night, the great rock face puts on a show depicting the lifetime of a bruise. First, the sun melts over the cliffs, wounding them with a bright red glow. The hue deepens...

Lunch Ticket

Nipple Gazing - Lunch Ticket

Nineties Girlhood No one ever praised me for being smart, only for being good. Good meant pretty and quiet, pressed like a flower in the middle of a bell curve. The first time I...

Spirit's Tincture Issue 1

Fever Wish

Marisol turns eight in the midst of a wildfire summer. The mountains burn, and the valley smells of mesquite and smoke hovers, always in your eyes. Even lifelong desert...

Cold Creek Review

Museum of the Unseen

A gathering of bleary-eyed people waited for the number seven bus. Nods of acknowledgment bobbed from chin to chin. Though Marin stood at the corner every weekday for the past...

Five 2 One Magazine

Monsoon Season

Gila woodpeckers forged a hollow at the heart of a great saguaro. It was a water witch who first filched the three-eyed coyote skull and secreted it in the hole, nestling the...


The Nape

It’s hard to fall asleep. It’s been that way for awhile, but tonight is especially bad. Annalise Yancy showed up to English with her hair cut almost all off. Sitting behind her,...

The Furious Gazelle

The Rat Girl of Saint Bruno's |

Sister Mary Elizabeth acts cheerful, but she's afraid. My nose crinkles. Underneath the mildew, I can smell her fear. She calls me sweetheart and is careful not to look at me....

Literary Orphans

On the House by L.L. Madrid

In the early hours of a not-so-long-ago Christmas Eve, snow blanketed the prairie patchwork and rolled through the wide, empty streets of Buck, South Dakota. In some other place...