Poetry
by Chiara Maxia
I admire her figure: graceful as she swings around the tables cleaning up after the clients, collecting empty glasses, with an absent gaze, the ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by Elena Traina
“Penzance is the end of the line, if you know what I mean,” one of you said to us, eventually. We knew it: we had travelled on the train all the way ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar
The dusty blades of the ceiling fan were still. The Summer storm last night with claps of lightning, gales of wind, and lashes of rain, had knocked ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Benedict Hangiriza
Geological past shapes biological present. — Blake de Pastino sun-charred pits bloated with bodies, sacks of bright-turquoise shales. This biblical ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Saumya Sawant
Hot summer days, we perspire, existing only in those moments when your broken AC kicks to life, blows out stale cold air. Summer of our seventeenth ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Amalia Pistilli
My mother stands at the blue and yellow Formica table in our dining room; in a bowl rests a dough she made with boiled potatoes puréed through a ricer ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Galina Chernaya
Why do people always say you forget the pain of labor? I haven’t forgotten the pain of labor. Labor hurt. It hurt a lot. The fact that I am not ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Emily Kossak
The day I should have called the ambulance was bright and sunny. It was a day that should have smelled like summer: green park lawns, sweat, sizzling ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Lisa Giacalone
There’s a house on the hills of Segesta. A hand so wet, it drips when it knocks. Passioned plastic, porcelain mothers nail their wooden sons to the ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Selene Lacayo
Time is an odd thing. You really can’t grasp how much of it has passed until you are confronted with a photograph of a former you. Cross-referencing ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Jayant Kashyap
after Lethe by Yoko Kubrick Tonight it stands in your garden both an image of afterlife and in time we shall bend down at its side to drink to our ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Aydée Tirado
[One or more Wikipedians are currently working on this template. As a result, there may be content gaps or formatting deficiencies.] Male monthly ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by David Herbst
As moonlight shimmers on the lake winds howl at the exposed landing, the cold air gusts serenity upon the scene. Bright shades illuminate my eyes, a ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Ella Felber
My hands are writing, crafting, caring, touching, picking apples… reaching for my ancestors’ hands. For the ones who sit with me, and for the ones who ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Jan Mohn
i dance buck wild i dance to a remix of hate i dance like a wounded child i dance to lessen the general belly ache i dance because the club is ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Hader Morsy
One-way flights are generally more expensive than return ones (per flight). The Syrian civil war is the second deadliest conflict of the 21st century ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Réka Nyitrai
I wear my sunglasses and my feet are dressed in red stiletto heels. I see myself in the lit windows of the shops. Without being arrogant, I can assure ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Johan Smits
It was during that era when Michael Jackson introduced his moonwalk, Madonna pretended to be a virgin and Oprah first aired her TV show. It was the ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Conny Borgelioen
What is in a name, a palatalisation of an origin. The smallest variation of strange, Vowels and consonants clash and eddy on a mirror. My hair lays ...read the full piece >>Flash Nonfiction
by Tjizembua Tjikuzu
The body is no different from a landscape. What shapes the valley, shapes me. When the sugars erode my right molar, my father offers me tiny red ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by J.B. Polk
It was the last day of our holiday in Poland. We’d already visited Malbork, the biggest medieval castle in the world, and the Wolf’s Lair, Hitler’s ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by Taslim Burkowicz
“Cocksucker. Shit. Fuck.” Rina looks around the café in Guildford, wondering if anyone has heard her. Her Tourette’s is ten times worse when she is ...read the full piece >>Flash Nonfiction
by L.E. Pinto
Beneath his furrowed brow, the larger-than-life fat man’s gray eyes remain permanently fixed in a mid-range gaze that never notices who is in his ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Tatyana Platonova
we are here. the works submitted for the competition should not violate the legislation of the rf i wonder what does it mean is it possible in this ...read the full piece >>Supported by:
