Tint Journal writers’ locales:

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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 
"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 
"Energy" by Vanesa Erjavec

Short Story

The Things Our Parents Teach Us

by Olivia Samur

My mother always said, “No hagas papelón.” Don’t make a scene. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t give people something to talk about. She said it in the ...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 
"Pulse" by Tetiana Yatsechko-Blazhenko

Essay

Dave & Dave

by Abhiram Kuchibhotla

Picture, if you will, a couple of acres of woodland. A large swathe of bright chartreuse, a gently sloping bowl dotted with copses of hawthorn and oak ...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 
"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 
"Self Portrait" by Stasia Fisher

Poetry

bodhidharma

by Ajay Kumar

the color of the room is a shade of bluecalled sleep. i’m waiting beside youlike an oversoaked shirt losing color. the doctor’s rounds lynchpin the ...read the full piece