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Issue Fall '26

"Runny Eye" by Anna Kohlweis

Flash Fiction

Everything Finds Its Tin

by Xheni Kapllani

How alike they are: biscuits and threads, needles and butter, loneliness and sugar, boxes and houses. Tights clumped together resemble feelings, ...read the full piece 
"A Known Somewhere" by Mahmoud El Mardi

Short Story

The Love of Cobs

by Zuzana Minstrel

The willow tree loomed over the spot I chose for nesting. I built it, straw by straw, despite having no one to share it with. At least not yet. Maybe ...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 
"Footsteps" by Petra Fuks

Flash Nonfiction

Barefoot

by Pranjali Kureel

Wandering through the foothills of the Himalayas the other day, I saw you. Not that I was looking for you here out of all the places, but then, there ...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 
"The Seed" by Vanesa Erjavec

Poetry

The Bomb Calls Itself a Gardener

by Punyasloka Mohapatra

The guard asked whether she carried anything alive. In the hem of her dress lay coriander seeds,a loose thread, dust gathered from three bus ...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