By Diana Dong | “I always thought you were the happier one between us. Writing or not writing, it’s such a trivial thing. What matters is the living.”
By Peixuan Xie | What if he got deported for covering stuff too sensitive? What if Bangkok was to sink sooner than Jakarta?
By Trini Lau | A week after naming all the skinks, I found my first corpse.
Translation by Ban Yan | If betraying a mainland / is like betraying a rough shoreline, / then it should also be easy to scrub my face clean in a thunderstorm.
By Lemuel T. | I sat until the crickets sang. Until the grass froze. Until the families packed up.
By Chow Yuet Yi Alice | I never bought any flowers from her because all she did was sell flowers.
By Charis Poon | ‘It’s really dangerous when they don’t know how to get home. I would have walked him to the right bus stop if I wasn’t in a rush.’
By Tash L. | The moment I put on that windproof jacket, eager for the nod of approval from my coaches, my goal had shifted.
Cicada is seeking nonfiction, fiction, poetry, and translations