Under The Wolf’s Bonnet

In this Think-Like-A-Man world, this Fault-in-our-Stars universe, it embarrasses me to say that I am…

The Bean

I thought of it as punishment, had I been walking the right path I wouldn’t…

short stories & essays by Black women writers

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“Land of Milk and Glory”

The parents had been seduced by the impalpable sanctuary of a promise. They had been…

“All The Things I Should Have Said”

I email him and tell him that I want to see him. I send it…

Lemon Bitter Toxic

The knocks were startling in part because we’re jumpy by nature, but mainly because anyone…

Dr. Tubman: The Universe Sent Me a Black Woman Therapist

I sat on the couch of a woman who decorates her office to make it feel like a home outside your own. She has locs dipped in watercolors. She has a favorite…

midnight and indigo literary journal for black writers

“The Intersection”

“Curse this damned place. I don’t want anything to do with here.” Holson, my best childhood friend, slammed the door and headed off on foot to the nearest mechanic. He just wants…

NARRATIVE ESSAYS

Porches

There’s something about a porch that speaks to my soul, love one that’s furnished like the outdoor, out front room that, in my eyes, it’s meant to be. I passed a little…

A Jones For You

I remember the night we met in Atlanta. On a cold evening in December, I turned around and there he was. 6’4″, beautiful mocha skin, an electric smile escaping full lips, and a stature that said “dayummm“.…

The Black Female Body: A Figure in Motion, Never at Rest

Black bodies are the world’s playground. Full of color, music, song, dance, cheer, and laughter that delights the masses. It is the happiest place on Earth; for where else could you find…

How to Share A Bed

When my little sister invited me to be her Maid of Honor, she sent me a pretty tin container filled with heart-shaped cookies and a note that said: I’ve found my mister,…

Black Barbie

Daddy straddled the heap of toys that lived on the floor of our playroom in Brentwood, Long Island. Tiny plastic arms splintered out as though bidding for a chance to accompany me…

midnight & indigo literary journal for black writers
“The Passing”

Clumps of wrinkled, white flesh hang from grandmother’s face and pool in the nape of her neck like turkey waddle. Her eyelids flutter but never quite open. I stroke her left hand,…

SHORT STORIES

“Waiting Room”

My eyes shot open. I must’ve dozed off. My head was pounding. Perhaps it was the bright, fluorescent light in this cold, white, sterile box of a room. I was sitting on…

“Tia”

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you okay?” I shielded my eyes from the glaring sunlight. Its warmth usually brightened my spirits but for some reason, it didn’t today. “Hi, sir,” I managed to say.…

“A Deadly Weapon”

1966 Sweat trickled down James’s forehead. The screaming from the crowd was earsplitting. The lights were so bright around the ring, and he couldn’t even hear his coach, Lee, yelling at him.…

midnight and indigo literary journal for black writers
“tea at miss daisy’s”

Many days we passed Miss Daisy’s house and yelled hi. She would usually call us up on her front porch to visit. She would be sitting in her rocking chair fanning flies…

“The Search”

The thick warmth of the air engulfs me as I step off the plane. “This is it,” I whisper to myself. I slowly pull my phone from my coat pocket, letting my…

“Lavender”

T he repass would be at our house. Gram’s closest friend, Mavis, would handle the floral arrangements. The funeral would take place on Sunday. Just when it seemed everything was in place,…

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