Fiction

Feature Image: The White Stag by Annie Stegg @anniestegg You’re walking through the woods one day, just as twilight stars begin to shimmer through the leaves. Everything...

Photograph by Ellen Tyn Wake up, wake up! say the first snowdrops. Their green stems poke through the snow, and their delicate hanging bells quiver...

She scrambled up the bank of the wash and ran across a dirt yard, right up to the front door of the witch’s house....

Illustration by Guinevere von Sneeden Wassail, drink hail to the sleeping trees blanketed in a white cloak of snow, under the dark of night. Leave the warmth...

Children! To perform this nifty trick, ask your mother for a shelled-out lemon, balled-up handkerchiefs, a vial of perfume, fire, and a pistol. “I...

Article from the Sumer Mermaid Issue #59 Photography by The Witching Hour Photography Model Tatiana Pimentel The woman glanced in the mirror and wondered who the tired person...

  In her first memory of this life, she clutched two pecans in her small hands. Warm brown with tabby cat black stripes, dry and...

Written and Illustrated by Charles Vess From Issue #29 - digital // print Come closer and listen well, for I have a tale to tell. For...

Spring does not need to be summoned. It will come in its own time and its own way to grace the land around us. It always does. For me, in my area, I know spring is well and truly on the way in early March, when the mesquite trees are heavy with their delicate yellow blooms and the wildflowers begin showing off all over the place. The first to arrive is pink primrose, and that is followed by bluebonnet, Mexican hats, and paintbrush, and last are the wild white poppies with a shock of hot pink at their center. This is how spring settles itself into the land where I live.

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”—Oberon...