SQUID Literary Magazine - Letter from the Editor for Issue 03, 2026

The virus claimed lives faster than undertakers could claim bodies. Leila couldn’t keep pace with the onslaught herself.

We entered the car dealership as a family on a mission. The soles of our shoes stuck to hot asphalt as we toured the grounds, looking to buy a minivan. The nondescript gray one, with automatic transmission and no personality whatsoever, fulfilled our objective. The salesman who greeted us didn’t know what to do with a woman looking to buy a car with cash, but my mom persuaded them not to put my dad’s name on the title. It wasn’t his mission, but hers. This was after Anita Hil

To celebrate the amazing contributors of our third issue, we gathered at Cafe Montiran in Montreal for an evening of music, readings, and amazing coffee

I was painting on the island of San Giorgio Maggiore by the sailboat marina. The day was drawing to a close.

You were always the one who lifted, So it took until now for me to realize that You are pretty heavy.

“Sugar? Are you okay? Can you hear us?” Grandpa stroked my hair. I opened my mouth to respond, but could only muster out a few laughs.

getting older is about killing the spiders less

Je sais que je t’ai agacé depuis les neuf derniers mois, mais je t’aime. Je t’aime trop. Je t’aime ton humour et tes yeux.

My brother woke up around 5am to thundering bangs shaking the walls and echoing throughout the house, followed by angry shouts. I woke up about four hours later in the room next to his, completely unaware of any commotion. In that blissful bridge between dream and reality, I sat up and checked my phone. The first thing I saw was a message from my brother: “Entao mano.. acordei cedo pra ir trabalhar e escutei gritos vindo de baixo. Aparentemente o Adrien bateu na porta do Cesa

There was a flash of light, and I heard the door slam behind me. I was in a room with no windows. The door had vanished. I was surrounded by smooth white walls, white floor, white ceiling.

Through 101 novels and metafictions, each poem in this collection riffs, literally, on its subject texts’ opening line(s).

I find it funny how the sun is so persistent. Through bordering on black-out curtains and closed-tight blinds, a wall of golden light sits on the other side of my window. It’d be peaceful if there weren’t two blaring problems.

SQUID Literary, Issue 02 magazine launch party at Bloom Cafe in October 2025.

The next time Venus transits is over one hundred years away. Today, the planet is visible, a solid black disk travelling across the blinding sun. I don’t recommend taking a look. I answer the phone. “Thank you for calling Agident, Rosalie speaking, how may I help you?” The words run together. I recite the sentence in a single breath, delivered with a bright chirp. The woman who replies wants to know if her insurance plan covers wisdom teeth extraction. “Please hold while I lo

It was a dark and windy night. You walked into the condo with two large bags full of groceries, just in time for us to do the evening...

My shopping spree is over I am content in my mess Return my luxury For essentials I desire nothing more Than a bed Too hot to touch Fire...

— for my father You recognized the earnestness when I set out alone —you had always been my compass— with a thermos and your field...

Most people walk with a layer of soot over their eyes, yet they do not shed a tear or even blink. They walk with an arrow shooting out of...

Digital Art by Elias Mossa, an illustration student from California.