Tint Journal writers’ locales:

(click on the colored countries to learn more)

Issue Spring '26

"Yellow Stars on a Black Floor" by Tania Serket

Short Story

The Other Side

by Somrwita Guha

I knew something was wrong the moment I saw the shoes. It wasn’t the usual neat line of sandals, school shoes, and the battered floaters my uncles ...read the full piece 
"Making plan" by Muyang Li

Flash Fiction

Papanca

by Pamela Smith

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in the bathroom, bleach coats the floor, thick, suffocating.It spreads like a blanket no one ever asked for.The ...read the full piece 
"Cocoon" by Johannes Christopher Gerard

Short Story

Proof of Magic

by Jowita Bydlowska

Inside me there is a flattened, pear-shaped organ called a pancreas, and a collection of other slick, cooperating parts I barely think about unless ...read the full piece 
"Melancholy" by Kateryna Bortsova

Essay

Algorithmic Womanhood

by Paulina Jarantewicz

I don’t remember when I stopped looking at my body and started auditing it. It happens at 6 a. m. now, still in bed, before my eyes have fully opened. ...read the full piece 
"Multiethnicity" by Viviana De Cecco

Flash Nonfiction

Chungking Express

by Cookie Noh

Reading English texts is taxing. Like a bricklayer, I have built understanding block by block with patience. However, the rare vocabulary items, ...read the full piece 
"Moon Jar" by Vanesa Erjavec

Flash Nonfiction

Moon Jar

by Bora Hah

1. For days, I couldn’t write anything. Tired, I was so tired — even in my dreams. 2. That afternoon, I went to see a moon jar. I love moon jars. ...read the full piece 
"Learning to Live off the Land" by Ann Keeling

Poetry

To Hold the Falling Light

by Melissa Luz

here —i try to hold what won’t stay and my fingersbecome cracked riverbedswhere things meant to be water refuse to settle since the first timei saw ...read the full piece 
"Cymbals after a Caesura" by Devon Balwit

Poetry

The Perfumers

by Oindrila Ghosal

The perfumers ply acrossThe crackedRugged promenadesIn silenceLike rows of ants.Like molten honeyThe overhead sunDrips down theirBare backs —Insulated ...read the full piece