In her first memory of this life, she clutched two pecans in her small hands. Warm brown with tabby cat black stripes, dry and cool to the touch. She might have gathered an empty husk, too, its edges curled as...
Every time my writing gets stuck, I ask myself, “How would Scheherazade get out of this?” Of course, she would know what to do. That’s how she survived for 1,001 nights and beyond: by knowing when to add to a...
Short Story from Issue #35 Summer 2016
This is the way she knew he was gone: The door was open. His boots were missing. The cage where he kept a hawk was empty. He’d never said a word. The night before...
Written and Illustrated by Charles Vess
From Issue #29 - digital // print
Come closer and listen well, for I have a tale to tell. For far longer than even I can remember Father Christmas has always lived in his warm, sprawling...
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 of the fire and sing to them through the dark of winter, promising that spring...
By Alice Hoffman
Illustration by Charles Vess
Article from the Autumn Issue #40 - Subscribe or Buy Issue
The most glorious hour in Manhattan was when twilight fell in sheets across the Great Lawn. Bands of blue turned darker by the moment as...
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. Looking back again, she saw that the gangbangers had stopped at the edge of the property....
“They mixed henna with limes, roses, tea, and eucalyptus and let it simmer overnight, for henna’s hue reflects the strength of love of a woman for a man, the thicker and deeper the color, the more genuine the love....