Clean

Emily S.

The Departure

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S

Rogue Passage

The Departure

A prince carrying a case worth more than his life. Bad news before breakfast, a traitorous guide, and a treacherous road ahead.

The Observers

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S

The Carrier Signal

The Observers

In the low glow of stacked monitors, coffee steams between crowded elbows as neon numbers climb and pencil scratches quicken around a number that should not be there.

Half-alive in These Streets

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Half-alive

Half-alive in These Streets

A slow walk through a city that forgot your name. Numb, intimate, and faintly spectral, it settles in the bones like weather you can’t dress for.

A Good Day

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Paws

A Good Day

Kaia is ten years old, and today she's going home. She's learned not to talk about the things she sees.

Machinery of the Gods

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Machinery of the Gods

Machinery of the Gods

He raised his companion from an egg and taught himself to build weapons no one here has ever seen. Today he rides into the valley where both will be tested.

I Watch Myself Go

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Rooms Without Views

I Watch Myself Go

An existential ache in slow motion. Quiet, repetitive, and faintly unsettling, it lingers where memory blurs and the voice telling the story starts to sound improvised.

The Castillo

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Rogue Passage

The Castillo

A peculiar pair move through a city choking on a fresh war, guarding something they won't explain. Where the land ends, with nowhere else to turn, escape has its price.

Why write without AI?

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S

Why write without AI?

The machine writes better than him. He knows it. A poem about guts, fuel, and the stubborn math of being built to think.

Nathan Roberton

How Zine Funding Works

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S

How Zine Funding Works

Your credit is a vote, not a purchase. Here’s how Zine funding works, what your support actually does, and what happens when a story clears its goal.

Nathan Roberton

Chorus of the Velvet Sludge

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S

Half-alive

Chorus of the Velvet Sludge

A surreal backseat romance of diner light, burnt coffee, and reckless devotion. Strange, intimate, and a little feral, it reads like a love story found crumpled in a coat pocket.

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Dying for a Cigarette

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Dying for a Cigarette

A vivid portrait and reflection on a loved one’s passing, their steadfast support, tender moments, and wry wit as well as life’s brutal turns and often bitter end.

I long to kiss the image of my death

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I long to kiss the image of my death

I long to kiss the image of my death

Written in the early 1960s, this poem explores a mother’s connection to her youngest child through shifting seasons and quiet moments of reflection, lingering in love, identity, and loss across time.

Jacqueline Rosalie Montchalin

A Ritual of Forgetting

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A Ritual of Forgetting

Some memories refuse to leave, even when you burn, bury, or drown them. They linger in ash, sand, and salt—stubborn as ghosts.

Nathan Roberton

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