Short Story Journal
Our Short Story Collection has evolved into a Monthly Short Story Journal!
Queer writers of color are invited to submit short stories, essays, and poems on a monthly basis to our Short Story Journal! 1-5 winners are chosen every month to receive a $50 reward and more.
The next Contest will open in January 2025
Entry Fee: $5
First Gen (Excerpt)
He shook his head and stared at his drink. They fell silent again, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. She wondered if he had secretly been a homophobe this whole time. He wasn’t sure how vulnerable he felt like getting right now. A waiter asked if they needed to be topped up, but they didn’t hear. The tension was unbearable.
i do not remember my roots
Mommy, I want a relaxer, you said. You did want one, your desire was genuine. You listened to their lies and deceived yourself. Later, you would learn, you just wanted the words to stop. Beauty hurts, but assimilation sears.
Safe Space Asado De Boda by Antonio Viramontes
The year was 1988, it was a particularly foggy morning in mid-late October; the kind of morning where you could smell the grass and taste the dirt simply by opening the front door. The fiestas honoring the patron saint of El Cargadero, a small rancho in the mountains of Zacatecas Mexico, were just a few days away; the crisp air had that wonderful feeling of eagerness and anxiety.
Besties
Her stitches look like letters on her mouth, and I wonder if it hurts to talk about the versions of ourselves we left in our mothers’ photo albums. I think I liked her more before the gold teeth and the fade, before we both came out and had to start fighting about the girls I’m dating who aren’t her.
A Nihilist
When I was younger, I hoped I would grow up to be someone worth talking about. Someone whose work reached hundreds of people. Now, I’m in my 20s and became none of these things. The world changes so much and so quickly and I stay the same. And maybe that’s the charm in all this.
Eve
A majority of my life, I have felt misunderstood. I’ve allowed the expectations of others to cage me in. I know that I should find a husband, have children and live happily ever after; but I’m not sure that is my purpose. I see Professor Jones and I know that more is possible.