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Miriam

Alec Solomita · Fiction · October 2026
The kids in our group of friends discovered each other at Edison Junior High. The school was a little unusual because it serviced two bordering neighborhoods, the middle- to lower-class neighborhood around Newton Corner, mostly Irish and Italian, and the upper-middle- to upper-class neighborhood to its north, mostly Jewish and Protestant. So, you might say our group of friends was integrated – the Foleys, McNamaras, and Repuccis hanging out with the Mandels, Slotnicks, and Forbeses.Often, we’d walk up Waverly Ave. to Donna Shapiro’s house, a sort of miniature Colonial tucked into quiet, peaceful, Belle Road, where we, numbering from four to maybe eleven kids, would crowd around the porch till Donna punched in the security code. If the group was smallish, we’d go through the Shapiro’s meticulous living room to the sunporch and sit on the thick beige rug and talk. We’d gossip about the…
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Cavaler by Bogdan Constantin, Pen and ink
Bogdan Constantin · Pen and ink · September 2026
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In Ninth Grade, After You Painted Mother and Children by Diego Rivera
Jeannie E. Roberts
Don’t forget: hold somebody’s hand through the dark. —Joy Harjo, Conflict Resolution…
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What “Never Again” Left Out
Raghoodi Azab
Tap, tap, tap. My pencil whispered, scribbling annotations onto the paper. Then, my eyes flickered to the title: "The Perils of Indifference." This White House address, delivered…
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Cupcake
Jomiyan
TWIG — frail, self-conscious, careful in her movements. Wears a loose white dress.BUCK — large, extravagant, magnetic. Wears loose black layers.SETTING: Scene One: A party, in memory — smoke, chatter, half-light. Scene Two: TWIG’s…
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Fragment
The Appointment for the Spectrum
Jaia Papitz
PARTICLEThey assembled it on the roof the way men build sins. Quietly. With confidence that had no permission.A broken steel bowl flipped upside down to catch whatever fell from the sky.…
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Other
the levelness of the game
Dustin Miller
You’ve seen the game, and likely played it.
Roll the golf ball up the short wooden incline. It comes back to you unless it drops…
first.
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From the archive
Jaia Papitz · 2018 · Poetry
A recovered text from the first iExile body — returned to circulation, not as nostalgia, but because it still burns.
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2018 — Quest
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From iExile Press
Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum
Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum
Jaia Papitz
A literary satire about laughter, bureaucracy, and the small cosmic errors that keep reality from sealing itself shut.

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