Grendelsong

We want the stories trapped in the beekeeper’s lips. The ones you had to pry apart with honey and promises. We want the stories whispered into keyholes while the rain ate the world away, and we want the stories carved on stones and fed to the sun. We want the stories the giants left behind when they went riding towards the north, and the stories that were told to keep the riddle eater in his caves. We want shapes of long stories and short stories, of essays that engage us intellectually and articles that pull out our eyes and place them in a bowl. Length is length. We’re also very open to all voices from any aspect of reality, and love hearing from oppressed, the estranged, the outsiders.