Illustration by Guinevere von Sneeden
You watch from the forest path as she emerges from the heavy oak door of her cottage and ventures straight into the woods, ignoring pathways and deer trails. You follow, careful not to make any...
Illustration by GUINEVERE VON SNEEDEN
Charumati glanced over her shoulder, just once. Her gaze swept the celestial palace where she had spent her life.
How it sparkled, all silver and ebony, this abode of the various nakshatras and their court. How...
They said she was outside of the village by a couple of miles, in a sort of travel wagon camped on the edge of an abandoned orchard. She was odd, almost crazy, muttering to herself as she went about....
As twilight touched the snowy, wooded landscape, the little girl saw her worried mother standing on the front porch of the tiny cottage and knew she was probably in trouble. The girl hid her frozen hands deep in her...
Article from Issue #27 Subscribe | Single Issue
PHOTOGRAPHY BY VIONA IELEGEMS
Ewyn Ivey’s award-winning 2012 debut novel The Snow Child tells the story of a husband and wife who move to Alaska as a new start and a welcome distraction...
Photo by Natalya Letunova on Unsplash
Article from Issue #40 Subscribe | Single Issue
Every few years they came searching and this was the year they found them. Three sisters living at the edge of the forest. The youngest sister was at the river when it...
The word Pre-Raphaelite almost always conjures up a certain kind of woman. She has a cascade of copper hair, a face filled with mournful longing, and a deep jewel-colored gown. She has found herself locked in a tower, married...
Feature Image © Martin Podt
I sat on the borderland between two worlds: In front of me was the ocean, mist-cloudy and tumultuous; behind me was the lush, old-growth Oregon forest, dripping with moss and shouting out its throbbingly vibrant...
STAR DAUGHTER IS COMING OUT FROM HARPERTEEN IN AUGUST
Sheetal got up and moved to the window. She stared at the great dark sky that arced over everything like an infinite ocean, taking in the uncountable coruscating stars, and wished...
My grandmother was a mysterious woman—quiet and stern, her burdens etched harshly across her face. Her home was unremarkable, uncluttered, and as sensible as the black-soled shoes she always wore. Grandmother didn’t have a chest filled with toys or...