November 2025
Naa Shika ColemanFICTION
They find Naana’s body floating in the pool in the early hours of the morning. Her body is swollen with chlorine and water. She is cold and pale, and her skin is ashen, sinking with the slightest pressure. What is most jarring is her eyes. The way they stare up dead, unfeeling, unknowing.
October 2025
FICTION
Daniel Naawenkangua AbukariThe koko line is its own kind of community. Here, strangers make small talk about ECG's latest betrayal, football scores, or why the president's nose always looks powdered television. Everyone becomes equal, the banker, the trotro mate, the SHS girl with oversized shoes, the newly heartbroken man sighing into his plastic bowl.
Esther Atswei AdjeteyFICTION
The body first found you in your dreams; your Father still needs to hear it from the corpse's own mouth—losing to death.
August 2025
POETRY
Kwame BoatengI learn the language of movement across borders of blossom.