Tint Journal writers’ locales:

(click on the colored countries to learn more)

Issue Fall '26

"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 
"Show Me Your Eyes Let Me Read Your Soul" by Tuana Burçak Kahraman

Flash Fiction

The Party

by Elodie A. Roy

Every year before Christmas, Bill has a party. He invites the lonely hearts, the widowers and the dreamers of Moston. The haunted people he meets at ...read the full piece 
"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 
"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 
"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 
Skiing: my mother and I, 1963. © N. Lvovich

Essay

The Morozov Mansion

by Natasha Lvovich

Dyrka[1] We lived, all eight of us, together with the grandparents and my aunt Ilia’s family, in the apartment on Podsosensky Street in the former ...read the full piece 
"Offering" by Anna Kirby

Poetry

generational healthy recipe

by Chelsey Keith Ignacio

the leftovers of my great-grandmother are safekept in a tin of cookies under the kitchen floor. we’re instructed to only open it when the moon turns ...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