He lay on the silver gurney, in the dark of the nuclear medicine department, snoring like a tin-pot orchestra. I entered the chilly room, wondering if I would soon glow in its blue light, the childhood nicks on my bones, the metal stays from surgeries, and whatever stealthy, insidious growths of which I was cheerfully

We’re growing! We are looking for fiction and non-fiction/memoir (1,000 to 3,000) of any genre and poetry (no more than 40 lines) that is related to mental health, in theme, subject matter, characterization, whatever “mental health” means to you. Please email submissions to contact@altmindsliterarymagazine.com. Rules for Submissions You are allowed to submit as many times

When you grow up in a hurricane there is no calm in the eye of a storm. Silence descends, it blankets, but you – you are still a creature of fine-tuned muscles from navigating gale force winds. Though the breeze is as gentle as the sigh of a summer night, you’ll walk with a shoulder-hunched