"we want the breathtaking & heartbreaking that haunts us."
Vibe: Weird / outsider / wtf even is it
Response time:
1 week-2 months
Payment:
No
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
Yes
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
Yes
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes
Average acceptance rate:
?
Country:
India
Year founded:
2021
Has Masthead info:
Yes

Important stuff

Make you feel at home: cozy, meme-friendly, a sense of community, all that stuff
Active on social media
Accept previously published: yes, must retain rights to own work
Offer expedited response: free expedited periods are announced on our twitter
Promote writers even after publication - hype hype hype

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max words: 2000
👌

Nonfiction

Max words: 2000
👌

Poetry

Max words: 2000
👌

Review

No specific limitations
👌

Interview

No specific limitations

Masthead

We currently list only main editors, more will be added later!
If you're an editor, you can edit your masthead in our admin panel :)

Dhwanee Goyal

Editor-in-Chief

Jessica Tsang

executive editor

Xin Yi Yap

managing editor

Examples

'RUNOFF IS THE SOUND OF CLOSURE' by morgan ridgway

(excerpt)
On Saturdays I turn green like my mother, take my plants to the sink and soak their roots. I wait for the water to drain from the little holes, alone in the silence, save for the quiet drip and my wilted yearning. I am rehearsing the lesson of my childhood—how to love from afar.
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'FOURTH DIMENSION FAIRY TALE' by divyasri krishnan

(excerpt)
at all times i am dying. after all, we could not have seen the guillotine. we could not have seen the way the road gorged itself on unvigilant passerby & the vigilantes, too. the sky seemed a stranger to me. i could not speak for you as i once had; i could not peel back the skin of an orange without my hands shaking like tin cans.
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'SOME NIGHTS I THINK I WON'T DREAM OF YOU AND THEN' by noreen ocampo

(excerpt)
we live in an ocean town, but neither of us is a fish. I am a universally acclaimed Tokyo-drifter. You are my noisy backseat driver, picnic basket-holder, smushing egg sandwiches as I triumphantly hydroplane. Let’s thread rickety mountain roads and race these monsoon trains.
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'2139' by c.t. dinh

(excerpt)
On the day we buried my mother, our shovels uncovered another coffin as their tips kissed the ground. Pausing, we cast aside our sand-crusted supplies until we’d identified the obstruction: it was a jewelry box, in the style that was popular when my mother was a little girl. I thought it was an animal’s heart when I first saw it in my brother’s palm: preserved somehow; salted with earth. Then my brother brushed it clean and the veins and arteries became intricate designs raised in mahogany. Reality ensued once more.
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