“Für Naledi: The Piano Lesson”

“Again! And sit up straight! You’re slouching.” Naledi repositioned herself on the stool in front…

“Parasite”

“Go back to Jamaica? You must be crazy! What would I do out there except…

Once A Mother

I watched from my seat in the sparsely populated bleachers as the swimmers began to…

short stories & essays by Black women writers

midnight & indigo is a new literary platform connecting readers to digital + print content featuring our stories in our voices.

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I Used to Love Myself

I don’t remember how old I was when my parents bought the brown metallic closet…

“Akinyi”

“Akinyi, you are such a good girl! Eh! Did you make these mandazi’s yourself?” Akinyi…

Namesake

I climbed the stairs to Aunt Tee’s apartment. The hallway was dark but the semi-opened blinds let in a hint of sunlight on the second-floor landing. The burgundy carpet was clean, other…

SHORT STORIES

“The Least Spicy Hot sauce”

When she hears his car door shut close behind him, Queen has just finished her to-do list. She writes one every day, not because she thinks it’s evidence of her being a…

“How to Make a Wish”

On the first night the stars fell, the whole suburb rushed out of their beds and looked out their windows to see what kind of rain had caused a glow on their…

“Intervention: Luz Ortega”

Luz had faked a pregnancy in order to get the attention of her ex-boyfriend Johnny Rivera and kept it going for six months. Not only had other students been whispering that she…

“Hoodoo Lady Blues”

I stood at that door knowing the second I knocked on it I’d be a murderer. I had just limped two miles up the bayou barefoot, the swampy mud still stuck between…

“Picking Up the Pieces”

Adesanya’s sunken eyes show shadows and fire. The wet earth opens and moves under foot. Behind the log cabin, beyond the stone ridge, stands a grey wind-whipped landscape; it tumbles like a…

“Holding Pattern”

When Lenaya is twenty-seven she begins to see pieces of her mama everywhere. In the red lip color worn by a stranger at the bar, in the thick country accent of her…

NARRATIVE ESSAYS

God is Blue

It’s morning again. The cold outside beats against everything it encounters and my old bedroom windows tremble, struggling to keep the warmth inside. It is often the cold that stirs me awake…

You Are The Prize

I changed jobs earlier in the year. It was the type of job that had me jump from plane to plane and airport to airport as a consultant. Seems as I was…

To The Girl in the Yale Sweatshirt

It was Christmas Eve, I guess technically Christmas because it was past midnight. We are, in fact, die-hard, committed Catholics, and on the Southside of Chicago on Christmas Eve, you are always…

Tracks of Passage: How to Ride A Dragon Coaster & Other Lessons I Learned from Dad

When you’ve got moxie, you need the clothes to match. When you haven’t got it, they need to match even more. The more the clothes match, the more they cover. The other…

A City Girl On Country Time

We’re alone, Patrick and I, in a three-story house an hour outside of Naples, Italy. In Tufo, Italy. It took us one taxi and two buses to get here. We don’t date,…

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…

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