Current Issue

Stories & essays will be released on our website every two weeks after issue publication.

Letter from the Editors
Aleksandra Hill, Rowan Morrison, Lian Xia Rose

Fiction
Golden Girl

A. M. Guay (out 6/3)

Love at the End
Deborah Germaine Augustin (out 7/1)

Green, Yellow, Red
H. Pueyo (out 7/15)

For Future Generations
Rachel Gutin (out 7/29)

Our Bones Were the Mortar
Anjali Patel (out 8/12)

Non-Fiction

Seeing Myself in Unexpected Places
Jaime O. Mayer (out 6/17)

Art

Issue 1.2
Isabelle Lin

Our Bones Were the Mortar

Edited by Aleksandra Hill || Narrated by TBD || Produced by Katalina Watt
Mass death; urban destruction; mass devastation
1500 words

I grew up the daughter of necromancers and undertakers, well acquainted with unmoored spirits. Singing, weeping, and hearty, rich food were well-known qualities of a good homegoing, but it was harder for folks who left this world unknown and without proper honoring. My parents raised me on rituals to care for the rootless: tipping salt into the freshly turned earth, scattering dried flowers, singing unrehearsed prayers. Over and over until you felt the flutter of the veil and knew they’d found the peace they needed to move on.

“This country’s a potter’s field,” Mama would mumble, slipping salt into my pockets on my way out the door. She always wanted me prepared to put a soul to rest, even though I resisted. I hated pulling back the veil and seeing all my trapped kinfolk. It hurt too much, so I left the veil down as much as I could and tried to pretend that I couldn’t sense them.

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Anjali is a Black and South Asian computer whisperer and speculative fiction writer. She writes to explore queerness, agency, ancestral severance, convoluted mythologies of her own devising, and the stars. She lives with a grizzled dog who offered to teach her magic in exchange for free New York City rent. Find her at anjali.fyi or on Twitter @anjapatel.
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