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Categories

Short Story

Sarah’s Return

El Arbi Mrabet

“The land belongs to the indigenous Palestinians — Muslims, Christians, Jews and others — whose forebears are the Canaanites. Did this Promised country fulfill its promises to you as it did to those of European origins?”


Herbal bouquet and shadows © El Arbi Mrabet

Ali’s Herbal Bouquet

El Arbi Mrabet

Aren’t crows sentient, intelligent, social and repenting? Why wouldn’t the first one be able to create the stars and the moon to illuminate the night, the darkness of the mind, its tenebrous ignorance?


© Mikhail Hoch, courtesy of the photographer

Rescue

Ami Sands Brodoff

They say we should get over our grief in a year, like a light switch, turning on, turning off. But it doesn’t work like that.


Talking on the Wall

Ami Sands Brodoff

Avelia glances back at Sister Marie, who nods slowly, her arms folded across her habit. Now Avelia knows: this lady is The One.


Death Announcement

Ashok Malla

At the end of the day, death is just the shadow that follows life from the beginning


Another Day, Another Toxic Man?

Arslan

The wonderful thing about casual sex is how casual it is, so whenever offered, I take the deal.


Graves and Fale, Samoa © Michael Coghlan, 2016

It’s My Party

Tahieròn:iohte Dan David

It’s 1991, barely a year after the Oka Crisis, and I’m with other Commonwealth Fellows visiting South Pacific island nations.


Outside the Nguyễn Viết Xuân Boarding School for Children of the Martyrs in Hà Nội, courtesy of the photographer © Tạ Mạnh Hùng

School Ends

Truong Thi Huong Thuy

Even though both of my parents are alive, much of my childhood was spent in a special orphanage


How Exotic We Are

Cyril Dabydeen

Mount Everest: She was a mother hen and the other mountains were chicks under her wings – Tenzing Norgay Shimla was where I wanted to be, like nowhere else in the northwest Himalayas – where the houses stood on precipices, […]


A Ritual of Humble Abundance

Laurel Páez Brave

    Sunlight filters through the treetops and spills onto our cobblestone road as I roll down my window and let the cypress-scented breeze flow in. Everything rattles inside, including my Cat Stevens cassette tape dancing in the car-door pocket. […]


White Noise

Sophie Gazarian

I would close my eyes and watch the shadows play behind my lids while the vibrations molded and shaped my dreams.


The Painted Earthling

Gloria Macher

    I come from a thousand light-years beyond the dark twilight of Earth, a planet today corroded by ambition and destroyed by so many shambles and fights over territorial and ethnic powers and other foolishness of the human species. […]


Activist

Mayank Bhatt

She grabbed my arm and led me through the gathering of people from the slums.


Storytelling in Mayan: The Little Deer and the Tiny Star

Sáasil Uj Chi Xool, María Reneyda Xool Yam, and Hilario Chi Canul

Sáasil didn’t know how to write at the time, so she told the story to María, her mother, in a combination of Mayan and Spanish, and then both of her parents helped her transcribe it.


The Emperor and the Crab

Maya Khankhoje

Today is a rainy, slushy, windy, still-winter grey day, and my mood matches the weather.


How did this become my life?

Ami Sands Brodoff

No oxys, no benzos, no sleeping pills, not even a bottle of Percocet.


Will the World Pause for Me?

Ami Sands Brodoff

  Vibration before sound, that’s how it starts. You could be at school, at home, anytime, anywhere. You hear mumbling and feel your lips twitch as you mouth words. Keep on your noise-cancelling earphones, never go anywhere without them. Listen […]


Les patineurs

Antoine Bustros

  Je nage. Autour de moi les vaguelettes taillées comme dans l’ardoise remuent au vent. Le visage immergé j’expire à fond, faisant bourdonner l’eau pendant que se vident mes poumons. Par moments, j’entends mon gargouillis se répandre dans un écho […]


The Art of War

Scott Weinstein

The sound tech is weaponizing Classic Rock against me – “Start Me Up” by the Stones, “Light My Fire,” by The Doors.


Tracks

Ami Sands Brodoff

Collier was born a boy, but when I knew him in high school, he called himself two-spirit, fluid.


Intersections

Andrés Castro

Franklin drove into the inner city from a middle-class white neighborhood outside the city limits, where his stern Christian father once sold insurance, where home was his mother’s orderly domain.


White-Yellow

Ehab Lotayef

The snowplow driver was motionless in his seat, seemingly in shock.


Dear Hasidic Girls

Sivan Slapak

The other neighbourhood happening here, on these shared streets. So why do I now feel naked on them?


Moi, faucon

Antoine Bustros

  Lorsqu’on nous regarde d’en bas, ça donne l’impression que notre vie est facile. On imagine les grands espaces, la liberté. Eh bien, je dirais que la liberté n’est possible qu’à l’abri des problèmes et la seule période sans problème […]


Talula & The Sarasota Sag

Bonnie Brotman Shore

  Talula   Talula, my seven-year-old visitor, meets the ghost of my husband in my kitchen. Her father lifts her onto the bar stool at the counter where I’ve spread out a festive buffet of beads. Lately, Talula has been […]


Loved

Taryn Foster

Fifteen years ago, I would have never even thought of this as an option. Yet here I stand, looking out of my window from my closet of an apartment, and I watch the stars.


Fourteen Days of God’s Speech

Tamara Nazywalskyj

And on the second day, God said: “When sadness falls upon thee, eat gluten and eat a lot of it.” That day she ate many pancakes.


Pierre

Dorota Kozinska

For the next six days, we stayed at home, obeying the curfew that gripped the city as the Israeli army stood at its doorstep.


Monday Morning Madera Municipal Court

Roberto Perezdiaz

  Municipal Court Mondays were always a low roar or outright chaos. Or maybe it was the other way around as the herd of weekend detainees was packed into the courtroom. The crimes for the most part were of a […]


Unusual Gardening

Nigel Thomas

If I believed in fate as an intelligent force, I would see my relationship with Jay as predestined. From the very beginning Ma Kirton, his grandmother, wanted us to be friends. Not sure if to this extent, but she’s dead […]


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