Tint Journal writers’ locales:

(click on the colored countries to learn more)

Issue Fall '26

"Altruism" by Panait David

Short Story

Hummingbird

by Rachel Huh

Before She recites the story of how I became hers. I was in the middle of cooking, she tells me in Korean as she taps out a beat on the steering ...read the full piece 
"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 
"Potato" by Hana Nekrep

Short Story

POTATO POTATO

by Jay C. Alexander

Nancy knew we’d been growing in her pantry for weeks. It was the perfect home for us: damp, warm, and full of strange bacteria that helped us thrive ...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 
"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 
"Branching" by Leslie Brown

Poetry

Loosening

by Stefan Raffl

I kneel in the garden,loosening the tangled rootsof a young plant. White filaments boundto their pot’s shape. First they resist,then, slightly, give. ...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