"A journal of feminist fairy tales, folklore, & myths from Sword & Kettle Press. We believe that folklore helps us make sense of the world we live in. We love stories that represent a wide range of cultures, identities, & viewpoints. We love stories that embrace nuance & complexity."
Theme:
feminist folklore
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
2-4 months
Payment:
$5
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes

Important stuff

Make you feel at home: cozy, a sense of community, all that stuff
Active on social media
Pays!

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max words: 5000Max pieces: 1
👌

Nonfiction

Max words: 5000Max pieces: 1
👌

Poetry

Max pieces: 1
👌

Hybrid

Max words: 5000Max pieces: 1

Masthead

Kay Allen

Editor-in-Chief

Examples

'Story Woman' by Kate H. Koch

(excerpt)
The mothers died first when the plague struck. It spared the old and the sick and the young, but never the mothers. So, when one young girl’s mother fell ill and the woman’s life began to tick away, her daughter resolved to use words to cheat Death’s clock. The girl knelt by her mother’s bedside and vowed to distract the plague with an endless story, as the disease only rested when it was entertained. She spoke of witches, crones, devils, and fish—of crows and fairies, swords, mice— she wove them all into a long, captivating tale, spinning stories for days as her withering mother hung on every word. The girl continued on and on and on until at last her mind and lungs failed her, and she came to a breathless halt.
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'Silenced' by Sandi Leibowitz

(excerpt)
No witch exacted justice, meting punishment and reward according to merit; how quick the world is to blame a crone for all its ills. “Women are scolds, shrews, gossips,” the sorcerer declaimed. “Better seen than heard.” He waved his hand, muttered his spell. ”Just do as you’re told.”
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'Changeling' by A. P. Howell

(excerpt)
Silence woke her. Elizabet lay in the ice-sharp stillness of the darkened room. Stared upward, feeling the tears run down her face as her ears strained for sound. Her own breath and her husband’s beside her. A tiny creak from the wall. A soft skittering as some animal made its way across the roof. The groan of caressing branches, moved by a wind intermittently whistling. No sound came from the basket by the fire. She felt her heartbeat quicken in terror. This was a moment she had dreaded since the baby took his first breath, managed his first weak mewling noise, convulsed with coughs. A moment she had expected. A moment they all knew was coming, despite the prayers and encouragement that perhaps the child might survive despite his obvious frailty.
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'When They Ask About Us' by Stephanie Chan

(excerpt)
The snakes aren't as bad as everyone says. You didn’t expect this: I can tell from your expression. They’re nut-brown, the thickness of a pen. I’ve taught them to sleep under my snapback when I go out. Your shoulders say you’re trying hard to act casual, but don’t worry: I haven’t been with that many girls myself. It's still all over Reddit, isn’t it, all of Poseidon’s hidden webcams, a livestream that caught everything from the fangs to the screaming. I heard he sold it to some website, sold the rights to 20th Century Fox. The difference between crime and scandal: who leaks the story first. If I ask, say you never saw it, say you aren’t on social media much. Put your hands on mine, keep your voice low when you ask what remains. Bite your lip. Awkward pause. “But it’s all in the past now, right?”
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