Short Story
by Satvik Gupta
It was a scorching afternoon. A merciless sun was accompanied by dry and listless air. There was no trace of movement in the desert as far as the eye ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Davide Mana
It was Buzz. That was the first thing he noticed. The dog was not barking. Paul stopped and listened. Every evening as Paul came back home from work, ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by Ida Hagen
If a crab grabs the mussel within two minutes, then she’ll tell. If they ignore it, then she’ll never bring it up again. Anne rolls the closed shell ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Anika Pavel
My attic room was not quite Jane Eyre, but to me, it was special. The window was small, and too high for me to be able to see out of, but, on a sunny ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Joelle Ballonzoli
Most streets in La Ciotat were renamed after World War Two. They were called after the native young men of the French Underground who had been killed ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Frieda Temper
I I learned to walk in thrifted clothes, my cousin's jeans and worn plimsolls. I learned to ride the bike at age four or five not knowing the ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Tatia Veikkola
It is such a gloomy day. It has been raining since the early morning and there is no sign of the heavy rainfall slowing down. Determined streams are ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Darsana Mohan
A two hundred year old earthen pot sits in a corner of my parents’ living room. My mother remembers it as belonging to her great grandmother and ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by Ranjana Joshi
Ria crouched behind the curtain, invisible to the people in the room where her mother lay on the bed. Two nurses stood on either side of her. One of ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Priyanka Kole
A sturdy oak tree drooped over an old, neglected building. Grey paint chipped from its walls. The doors closed tightly as if discouraging visitors to ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Catia Dawood
Most accidents happen in the home, most notably in the kitchen. She watches him slice the tomatoes with precision, the translucent juice filling the ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Natascha Jurácsik
and the people are singing praises of a muse unknown, whispering hymns of apathy disguised as newfound ways to save the world, every man stands by her ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Dai Lin
In the years of puberty, I camouflaged. When they speak of diversity as the colors of a rainbow, they aspire to be my middle school. Students ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Timea Pap
Uncovered tapes of (what they believe to be) Frida’s voice. Soulful, stirring, wide open — the quiet chaos of the ocean. I don’t care about Rivera’s ...read the full piece >>Flash Nonfiction
by Ailun Shi
A pigeon squawks from under our table, its wings brushing against my legs. Mother rips off a bit of her bread bowl, tosses it down under the table for ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Walter W. Hölbling
today at 7.10 a.m. the first day of spring my mother died she had always loved flowers and turned our glass-roofed hallway into a luscious greenhouse ...read the full piece >>Essay
by Filippo Bagnasco
German terrifies me. The best piece of advice about writing I’ve ever found is to start with a true sentence, and I couldn’t start with a truer one. ...read the full piece >>Flash Nonfiction
by Zoë S. Roy
One day, when I walked past Spadina Avenue in Toronto, mangos in yellow and orange piled high on a fruit stand caught my eye. A memory of a sacred ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by Richard M. Cho
I am a concert pianist. Or, I should say, I was a concert pianist. My right wrist now ends in a stump, which is an obstacle even my prodigious talent ...read the full piece >>Flash Fiction
by Giulia Moriconi
The puddle has no bottom. Your foot lowers and lowers, past where the street should be. Water fills your ripped shoes more than the rain already did, ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Serena Piccoli
The sun kisses the prettiest. It’s an Italian saying he says. 3 euros per hour, 12 hours per day The red-gold burning in his ears between the toes, up ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by J.T. Aris
There is a well in every village in Denmark; there has to be. Even if water can be brought from a nearby river, creek, or stream, the village ends up ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by Héctor Muiños
1 …and the lovely roses, late yellow roses all leaning over the wall, giving the only bit of colour to the dark and dirty lane I walk. They are ...read the full piece >>Short Story
by Chourouq Nasri
I’d been waiting for the guard’s vigilance to lapse for more than thirty minutes. I was nervous, but not as nervous as someone who’s about to commit a ...read the full piece >>Poetry
by Gabriela Halas
America opened — Prairies unfolded in ever-arriving distance. Air untarnished, fresh. Our eyes followed waves of power lines, their undulating surge ...read the full piece >>Supported by:
