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Issue Fall '26

"The Thing We Buried" by Monika Gustevičiūtė

Short Story

The Thing We Buried

by Ethel Maqeda

Only Tabonga still remembered their bush. Even after all these years, it remained clear to her. But when she tried to remember it with her friends, ...read the full piece 
"Potato" by Hana Nekrep

Short Story

POTATO POTATO

by Jay C. Alexander

Nancy knew we’d been growing in her pantry for weeks. It was the perfect home for us: damp, warm, and full of strange bacteria that helped us thrive ...read the full piece 
"Float II" by TJ Norris

Flash Fiction

Slack Water

by Mileva Anastasiadou

My friend texts before she gets on the plane and says, how exciting, because she’s flying to see the love of her life, and I’m happy for her, but also ...read the full piece 
Skiing: my mother and I, 1963. © N. Lvovich

Essay

The Morozov Mansion

by Natasha Lvovich

Dyrka[1] We lived, all eight of us, together with the grandparents and my aunt Ilia’s family, in the apartment on Podsosensky Street in the former ...read the full piece 
"Monarchs" by Atzin Garcia

Flash Nonfiction

In the Time of the Caterpillars

by Jean-Luke Swanepoel

There were four of the caterpillars the first time I noticed them. The milkweed had been growing throughout the summer but still wasn’t of remarkable ...read the full piece 
"Footsteps" by Petra Fuks

Flash Nonfiction

Barefoot

by Pranjali Kureel

Wandering through the foothills of the Himalayas the other day, I saw you. Not that I was looking for you here out of all the places, but then, there ...read the full piece 
"Offering" by Anna Kirby

Poetry

generational healthy recipe

by Chelsey Keith Ignacio

the leftovers of my great-grandmother are safekept in a tin of cookies under the kitchen floor. we’re instructed to only open it when the moon turns ...read the full piece 
"Water Droplet" by Yuliia Khovbosha

Poetry

Domestic Scene with Victorian Ruins & a Daughter Listening to Matilda at 2 a.m.

by Paola Lee

Jane Austen, who understood that women could disappear elegantly without ever leaving the room, never wrote mothers like mine. At 2:17 a.m., Harry ...read the full piece