Fireside Magazine

poem

Three of Swords, King of Cups

there’s nothing neat about what’s sacred, so I revel in the mess

short story

The door I opened revealed a gaping hole in myself. Hunger filled me but I refused to eat.

short story

Sometimes she didn't even see what she drew. Her hands took over and drew what they wanted, and everything else faded away.

Jul 4, 2019 | essay

Since my mother was half-Choctaw and half-Black ... in the eyes of my tribe, I was not and would probably never be Choctaw enough to be one of them.

short story

Don’t meet the shopkeepers’ soot-black eyes. Don’t look at their pointed faces, their beautiful hair...

cuento corto

Pero hay otras veces en que llama para quejarse: de mi ausencia, de su soledad, de lo frío que me he vuelto con ella...

Jun 20, 2019 | essay

A yes vote kept the law as it was, protecting transgender people from discrimination in public places. A no vote repealed those protections.

short story

MacKenzie’s body had fought off the diseases, and she’d dodged the vines, and when roaches had invaded her dorm, Bubbles had killed them...

short story

He paused slightly when he saw the worn sword at my side, but he did not ask for it, and I would not have given it to him in any case.