A Journal of International Science Fiction & Fantasy. Estd. 2015.
Mithila Review publishes excellent science fiction, fantasy, poetry, reviews, excerpts, and articles from award-winning and emerging writers around the world. We seek to publish stories that birth creative thought and positive action. Stories that accurately describe our world, triumph over fear, mistrust and despair, and guide the future. Because the world needs saving, and honestly, nothing seems to work better than amazing stories. Please subscribe or donate to Mithila Review to help us find, create, publish and spread original voices and impactful stories.
FICTION, POETRY & MORE
Sculptural Painter and Visual Storyteller, Cathleen Klibanoff discusses her process and style
I am fascinated by the dance between man and nature as they strive to strike a symbiotic relationship that serves them both equally.
Eclectic Modern Folktales: 2020: An Anthology, edited by Foo Sek Han and Leon Wing
The cross-genre stories in 2020: An Anthology by some of Malaysia’s finest emerging writers reflect the present generation’s many concerns and outlooks.
Different Boxes
On their third date, Pandora began to open up.
cinderella
he saw you, blue / as frostbite, wild soot-stained hair and manic eyes, / your heart, a birdhouse of caged fluttering / wings.
uncas
little woman, / may your feet be steep as mountains / may you creep into the muddied seas / and dribble into the warm skies.
As Dark As Hunger
With every step Ellen takes, her body drags through the water, leaving chevrons in her wake. The surface dimples as water skippers skim away from her, and little bubbles break the surface as fish dart up to eat the algae and insects floating on the surface like gasoline.
Things Not to Say
“Oh my god, you’re huge! Are you sure you’re not having twins?”
The Call to Neigh
A shapeless smog had descended on Cairo, veiling the city as though it were afraid to show its face to the world.
Mother’s Blood
Stella blinked. She stood in the same place, still naked, but Celandine’s blood had vanished and the statue was unmarked. Its eyes were closed, and very much made of stone.
Iterations
Coen rolled his eyes. For a moment he’d pleasantly forgotten that Gwen’s husband Martin was even there. The man hadn’t made a single kill the entire trip, which was bad even for a beginner.