by Rachel M. Hanson

The word Nankoweap is Paiute and the phrase carries differing meanings, such as “place where people were killed” and “place that echoes.”

by Andrew Field

Andrew Field is a librarian and cartoonist who writes and draws mostly about mental health. He recently had a cartoon published by Bluestem Magazine, and reviews books for Graphic Medicine.

by Eamann Breen

When we were young, we loved the Mulligan sisters. There were two of them and two of us. If we could have been a pop band we would have been the Supremes, except there were four of us and we were white and two of us were boys. The Mulligan Sisters wanted to marry us and were the same age. A joint wedding was secretly planned.

by Kai Cheng Thom

He gave her a library so she’d know he was the sensitive kind of Beast – not one of those monsters who’d kidnap a girl, blackmail her into staying, brutally ravish her then eat her for dinner without a second thought. This, clearly, was the romantic kind of hostage situation, the type of abduction that was a prelude to romance.

by Leah Hilson

Freddie was hiding in the shower when I got home. Steam curled to the door, greeting me, damp and warm like a dog panting on my face. The train ride was long. Ice and snow smothered the tracks, strangling wheels intent on trudging through. And at every station, a strange parade of orange vests would receive us, lugging industrial sized shovels, fixed on digging us out.

by H. R. Link

Month six of unemployment. My father is sharpening his knives.

by Tara McGowan-Ross

I’m not saying Sarah wasn’t my friend, but she pissed me off. Always going on about things. Her parents. A man. There was always a man.

by Mary Thaler

Leah sat behind the counter of the café looking at her phone while Melike rummaged through their work cubbies.

“Do you want all these flyers?” Melike called, all earnestness, as if Leah somehow didn’t know the tidying was a pretext and that Melike was hoping to find another of her sketchbooks.

by Mia Huang

This series of memories was mostly taken on an expired Fuji ETERNA 250D in Wuhan (2020), where and when the first case of Covid-19 took place.

by Hannah Polinski

A few Augusts ago, I became obsessed with a story I heard of a couple whose baby was attacked by a bat after the mother left her bedroom window open for the sea breeze. She kissed her baby goodnight, and returned to find them covered in bite marks.

by Sean Cho A.

walking through the forest 
stepping on the leaves off 

by Meghan Harrison

“Perfect Combustion”
says the back of the van
waiting to turn left in front of
the deconsecrated church.

by PW Jarungpiterah

All that green, its sickly
hues of abundance— 

by Stefanie Kirby

The body of a moth is velvet. The body of a moth 
is light. The body of a woman fills with moths and light 

by Khashayar Mohammadi

fruit. then walk away. light then let it run.

by Erín Moure

To always bear this certain tension
An inheritance
An interstice

by Cassandra Whitaker

They are the space between each beard stroke / these two—them in their love—how their bodies grow

by AJ Bermudez, translated from Naima Lahbil Tagemouat

A long day ahead. A beautiful day!

Tonight they’d all see. They’d gouge their eyes out tonight.

by E. Merrill Brouder, translated from Jean Le Roy

On the asphalt of my street, the rain makes a black reflection that gathers a collection 
of the evening, of the lights. 

Roslyn and Max Margles Contest - First Place, Grades 5/6

When I dreamt about getting rich and famous, I never expected for it to happen like this… Truthfully, nothing about what happened went according to plan. 

Roslyn and Max Margles Contest - First Place, Grades 3/4

There was once a kind unicorn named Bluebell. She was as soft and white as a cloud with a blue and pink mane which glowed and looked like cotton candy.

Roslyn and Max Margles Contest - Honourable Mention, Grades 3/4

My alarm clock rang. I threw on the clothes that I had laid out the night before, then I rushed downstairs and ate breakfast, barely stopping to take a breath.