Tint Journal writers’ locales:

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Issue Fall '26

"Warm Waters" by Marta Zubieta

Flash Fiction

i once fell in love with a girl named red

by Liu Yuniang

Her name is 朱丹 Zhu Dan. 朱 Zhu means vermillion. It’s a common Chinese surname. 丹 Dan means flaming cinnabar. In other words, her full name means ...read the full piece 
"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 
"Runny Eye" by Anna Kohlweis

Flash Fiction

Everything Finds Its Tin

by Xheni Kapllani

How alike they are: biscuits and threads, needles and butter, loneliness and sugar, boxes and houses. Tights clumped together resemble feelings, ...read the full piece 
"I'm Flying Through the Daytime City in the Clouds" by Nasta Martyn

Flash Nonfiction

The Ballet Dancer

by Andie Z Chen

One of my aunties — her child had died of cerebrovascular disease. When her son was sick, blood kept coming out of his nose, and she would hold a ...read the full piece 
"Going Home" by Sonal Goorha

Flash Nonfiction

The Goldfish and the Boy

by Chun Yu 俞淳

It was July 4th. I was at a party in a California garden overlooking the Pacific. Boys, loud and strong, waved nets, chasing goldfish in a small pond. ...read the full piece 
"Fragmented Pulse" by Mukul Chandra Barman

Essay

Ginger Grandmother

by Anushka

I’d been murderous about my grandmother for years now. You’d think it was anger or perhaps even hate seeping into unassuming errant thoughts — an idle ...read the full piece 
"Mother Ocean" by Mary Tina Shamli Pillay

Poetry

Ars Poetica of Holding the Night

by Daniel Naawenkangua Abukuri

for mom (R. 2016), the night is always a kind of shelter That night, the house became a bowlI had to hold steady, though my handswere still learning ...read the full piece 
"Stress Lines" by Em Harriett

Poetry

(new year as hunger, as hands, as a house with no doors)

by Thái Nguyễn Đăng Khoa

i. the elephant in the room at dinner, we eat in silence,on plates older than us, as father’s cigarette glowslike embers, its smoke pressing the ...read the full piece