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Intangible Ingredients
Sara Etgen-Baker After Granny died, Mother requested only one item from her mother’s possessions. “All I really want,” Mother told my uncle, “are her old recipe cards and antique file box.” Mother’s request puzzled me, for I knew Mother didn’t need the recipe cards and file box for any practical reason. She’d known for decades how to make Granny’s pumpernickel bread, sauerkraut, and her breakfast specialty—streusel kuchen. But when the file box arrived a few days later, Mothe
Sara Etgen-Baker
Sep 13
Healer
by Mehreen Ahmed How a mother pretends to love her own children depends on her manipulative nature. To pretend, when there is no love? How does one do that? Anxiety fills me up when my little girl is ill--I cry through the night. Anxiety tightens my chest every time she goes out and comes home late. I wait anxiously by the gate for her to come home from school. Until she is safe in her room. That my daughter’s accusations of my love for her is a pretence, reminds me of the su
Mehreen Ahmed
Aug 12
When the Mangoes Were the Sweetest
by Samya Jayachandran Elijah Varghese collected broken seashells. Not the shiny, whole ones tourists picked for souvenirs, but the fractured ones. The kind that looked like they’d survived something. He’d squat by the surf in Mararikulam, sand clinging to his calves, eyes scanning for the imperfect. His Ammuma would call from the porch, her voice carried by the sea breeze: “Elijah! Come eat before the crows do!” And he’d come running. Always. There would be a steel plate wait
Samya Jayachandran
Aug 9
Rearview
by Rajen Goyal Our station wagon sits in the driveway, its fresh maroon coat beaming in the sun. I race out from the house and hop into the wayback seat. Our mission: reach Disney World. I grab the seatbelt, but I wince in pain from the scorching buckle. I wrap my shirt around the buckle and fasten it. The adventure begins—our house on the cul-de-sac shrinking in the distance. THUD! The car jolts from hitting an unseen crack in the road. I grip my belt, jaw clenched. We get o
Rajen Goyal
Jun 25
Love Bubble
by Vartan Koumrouyan There was not a before and an after, a physical separation that changed the course of events, or changed me to become another person. It was a continuation of the same wonder that I didn't understand then as I still don't understand now. The war served as a balm ointment whereby it made me stop asking myself difficult questions. I blamed my failure on the war, and I only identify the pre war period of those childhood moments as belonging to the purest for
Vartan Koumrouyan
Jun 4
L'Homme Tranquille
by W.R. James Father died today. Which he didn’t, it was more than a week ago, but I wanted to start this like that because I wanted it to be like the book by Camus. That’s why I called this L'Homme Tranquille, The Quiet Man, because of the books by Camus, especially the one about his childhood, unfinished, Le Premier Homme. That sounds right, it fits. It fits because it’s unfinished, and because he died too. That’s what this is, what I’m trying to do. Not to write a book, bu
W.R. James
Jun 2
Heirloom of the Wilting Jacaranda
by Maekawa Kirin You know… Grandpa Nathe was quite the tease. I can still recall those episodes vividly, in the same way this green tea paints itself in my mind from its lingering taste. Mostly bitter, but one I can stand behind. The peak of my frustrations toward him occurred at my graduation in the late spring of 2005. That day, the rain poured buckets, yet it was merely a gentle murmur compared to the thunder that erupted when Grandpa Nathe accompanied me on stage. I mean,
Maekawa Kirin
Mar 10
A Puzzle
by Fran Schumer Rachel and her mother, Sarah, are sitting in the living room of Rachel’s parents’ apartment. Light floods the apartment, which is on the 31st Floor. A golf course and beyond it, a carpet of green. No people. No noise. Perhaps her parents are preparing for the next stage: heaven. Rachel’s father is asleep in his remotely operated Lift chair, when her mother, turning toward Rachel, comes out with this: “I never really understood you.” Rachel is surprised. Consid
Fran Schumer
Dec 2, 2025
Fetching Fish
by Kelli J. Gavin When I was a child, I was quite close with my Grandma Collova. Grandma and I enjoyed games of rummy at her kitchen table and T.V. dinners watching Wheel of Fortune. She would doze after finishing her meal and wouldn’t rouse again until her show had finished. If it was terribly warm, we would sit outside under her shade tree and she would fill a small pool with water where we could cool down until mosquitoes drove us in for the evening. When I received an inv
Kelli J. Gavin
Oct 27, 2025
Narcissus Apologia
by Ann Humphries Yellow narcissus preen in fresh mounded beds strutting lemon banners, fanfare for spring. Aren’t we pretty against...
Ann Humphries
Aug 10, 2025
Snake House
by Gautam Sen Arun Thapar and his family were nice enough people. His father looked like a film star past his prime, smoked cigars, and...
Gautam Sen
Jul 17, 2025
Two Poems by Peter Mladinic
by Peter Mladinic Buried Tenderness I couldn’t attend Paul’s funeral. He was an undertaker, and my handsomest male relative, with the...
Peter Mladinic
Apr 23, 2025
Between Clods, Stars
by Allan Lake Farmer uncle was bent out of shape but only physically, a right angle that somehow remained a gentle straight-shooter....
Allan Lake
Mar 30, 2025
What Happens for the Eclipse To Happen
by Mayen Agier my niblings have this blind faith in me. they believe i have all the answers to their infinite questions. after learning...
Mayen Agier
Dec 5, 2024
Articles
The Morning It Started
by Elizabeta Žargi That summer I was travelling through Europe on an Interrail ticket — a month of trains and no fixed schedule beyond a language course waiting in Ljubljana. I had already spent a week in Malmö, made a delayed stop in Hamburg after sleeping through it once, then gone down to Geneva to visit Milena. Eventually I returned to Vienna, where I was staying with Gregor and Sandy. They were also planning to attend the course in Slovenia. I was meant to leave on the 2
Elizabeta Žargi
Apr 5
Dreaming of Kalbarri
by Meredith Stephens “Wake up! If we don’t get going now it will be too hot!” urged my fiance Alex. I couldn’t understand why we had to leave for Kalbarri National Park at 5:30am in darkness. Was it really going to get that hot? We quickly arose and headed to the car for the long drive. By the time we arrived, the day was breaking and we were among the first tourists to arrive at the famed Nature’s Window. We made our way along the trail to the window where international tour
Meredith Stephens
Nov 2, 2025
Between Two Skies: An Egyptian Heart in Albany
by Walid Abdallah When I first arrived in Albany, New York, in the winter of 2014, I felt as if I had stepped into a painting. The air...
Walid Abdallah
Oct 13, 2025
Reviews
Hedgehog Book Review
by Catalina Bonati 2/5 stars ★★☆☆☆ Hedgehog by Maggie Koons (to be published March 2027) is a horror novel that revolves around two young women: Riley Kilkenny and Irina Lebedev. Riley is a well-off writer of daily news briefs for influencers, and who is struggling to come to terms with the breakup of her girlfriend Markie, which happened almost a year ago. She finds a new coping method consisting of the killing and torture of animals, which she begins to upload to the intern
Catalina Bonati
Oct 18
To The East of the East Book Review
by Catalina Bonati 1.75/ 5 stars ★★☆☆☆ To the East of the East by Ping Lu and translated by Jeremy Tiang (to be published October 2026) is a translated literary fiction novel about Min-Hui, a Taiwanese writer who after the disappearance of her husband, Chien-I, a Taiwanese businessman, must stay in Beijing to help authorities figure out his whereabouts. She meets a strange man named Shangjun who begins to accompany her in conversation in her hotel room every day, which makes
Catalina Bonati
Oct 15
Dead Teenagers Review
by Catalina Bonati 3.25/5 stars ★★★☆☆ Dead Teenagers by Jude Ellison S. Doyle and Caitlyn Yarsky (published March 2026) is the first comic in a five-comic installment. It centers on a group of four friends who go to prom in 1997, and are horrifically killed that night. This night resets at its end into a continuous loop of horrors in which the killings change every night and become increasingly gory. The friend group tries to figure out what is keeping them caged in this time
Catalina Bonati
Oct 8
Short Stories
Back in the Day
by Robert Lowinger I was in the seventh grade, in 1969, living in a little town outside of Buffalo, New York when me and Danny Nissen, who was almost 15, threatened to beat the crap out of Larry McKoon for telling Danny that he wasn’t good at basketball, and he should get booted off the team. Well, Danny said, “Jimmy, you got to be a man and not let anyone diss your friends, certainly not a little prick like Larry,” and ever since Danny killed that cat with a knife behind the
Robert Lowinger
Sep 24
Ticket to Ride
by Sara Etgen-Baker "You gotta have a ticket to ride!” snapped the Carney. “Get a ticket or move outta da way, kid. You’re takin’ up space!” I stared motionless as the Ferris wheel cut through the heavy summer clouds. “Here’s her ticket, sir. We three are ridin’ together.” “Not happenin’ lady—only two per chair. One of youz has to ride by yerself.” “No problem! She’s the oldest; she’ll ride by herself.” “Whatever ya say, lady. She seems a bit scared to me though.” “Your broth
Sara Etgen-Baker
Sep 15
Intangible Ingredients
Sara Etgen-Baker After Granny died, Mother requested only one item from her mother’s possessions. “All I really want,” Mother told my uncle, “are her old recipe cards and antique file box.” Mother’s request puzzled me, for I knew Mother didn’t need the recipe cards and file box for any practical reason. She’d known for decades how to make Granny’s pumpernickel bread, sauerkraut, and her breakfast specialty—streusel kuchen. But when the file box arrived a few days later, Mothe
Sara Etgen-Baker
Sep 13
Poetry
Scarabs
by Romolo Wilkinson Where once there were subway walls Millions of scarabs crawled All tittering and chittering and pulsing with goo All tapping and clapping in rhythmic yahoo All clacking and cracking a thunderous knell Sputtering and fluttering inside of green shells It seems that I have missed my stop And ended somewhere I should not
Romolo Wilkinson
8 hours ago
Salem
by Sameer Saklani I. these witches wailing thru the night sing Saturn songs tarantism spells under kaleidoscope visions breasts thrash asunder thunder claps as legs flail free xenoglossolalia arouse the men and woodland beasts wives feign deafness, husbands hide tumescence wishing to leave their cross behind and wander towards the madness II. night and hair cover all Stygian sheet bone and fur silken shawl or goat fleece chomp and gnarl sharp incisors rip fib
Sameer Saklani
1 day ago
The Ritualistic Desecration of My Corpse
by Amanda Brown in the dark of night exhume my body remember me make me a spectacle for all to see pardon my rotting you should be proud when you're bored before the crowd return me to the Earth after so long what could go wrong?
Amanda Brown
3 days ago
Art & Photography
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