Mole Notes + 68 More Opportunities Recently Opened & Closing Soon

​

Welcome to Issue 5 of The Hoolet's Nook ! If you've just discovered THN , we're so glad you found us. And to those who have been with us along the way, thank you. As we approach our second...

​ SoFloPoJo Content:     HOME ● ESSAYS ● INTERVIEWS ● REVIEWS ● SPECIAL ● VIDEO ● VISUAL-ARTS ● ARCHIVES    ● CALENDAR ● MASTHEAD ● SUBMIT ● TIP JAR ● SOCIAL MEDIA

by Cortni Merritt I saw you with the box today, pink and mirrored, dark-skinned figure, twirling to that tune I know but not by name. It was in your hand but it held something you'd forgotten or...

SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN AUGUST 1-SEPTEMBER 15, 2026.

by M. Frost I’ve tried for a year to contain myself, to trim the fat, to fit into the box (or the clothes from before). To scrape words off my plate to meet the word count. I’m trying to be...

dropping into the beggar’s hat– spring rain ​park bench–  an old man’s small talk with pigeons                     Martina Matijević ​

Alt: Pim: I Believe In Destiny

by Foster Trecost It’s not often I finish a cup of coffee. I start out with every intention, but it gets cold long before I reach the bottom. The last sips feel familiar. Like something that's been...

Submission guidelines for a fully digital literary anthology that explores themes to open conversations through the written word.

Spring has arrived, and with it, a brand new issue of The Hoolet’s Nook —our biggest one yet!  While compiling the issue, it became evident how drawn we are to work that whispers and invites...

by Liz deBeer   Limping to the ocean’s edge, my broken foot’s worried, wondering if the podiatrist would approve, but I say Screw it, adding, Salt water’s healing. Wading in further, frothy fo…

by Andrea Tillmanns After the rain, the air tastes like summer, blowing in through the open window and enveloping you in night. The quiet grunting of hedgehogs in the garden, above which bats flit...

by Leigh Loveday Her hometown, Ffion had decided, looking back towards land from the old stone pier, was full of dragons. A wyrm here, a wyvern there, tucked into parks and factories and the warren...

by Moira Richardson My calves burned like fire, my hair streaming behind me in the wind of my own creation. For the first time in a long time, I felt free. You’d wrapped me in bubble wrap like a...