“The Passing”

midnight & indigo literary journal for black writers

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, liver-spotted and marked with bluish-green bruises from the IVs. She still wears the gold wedding band grandfather slipped on her finger six decades…

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ISSUE 2 – Sneak Peek

  midnight & indigo is a literary journal dedicated to short fiction and narrative essays…

“Simple Mind Play on Crazy Rose”

About time, Rose grumbled under her breath as she snatched up her two half-filled garbage…



T he repass would be at our house. Gram’s closest friend, Mavis, would handle the…

“Don’t Go There”

At bedtime, the little girl I babysat grabbed my shirt and whispered, “Don’t go there.”…

“When the Reflection Stares Back”

When her reflection stared back at her, proud and plus-sized often went horribly in these…


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…

Black Stories are Educating & Traumatizing Me

Has it happened to you? Maybe you’re scrolling through Twitter searching… no, damn near begging…

Black spirituality

Black Spirituality: A Millennial Woman’s Journey

A typical Sunday morning as a millennial five-year-old Black girl may have gone like this:…

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