Pandora's Ink Digital Magazine

Written by Angela Su from New Orleans, Louisiana, USA We speak of unity, but our streets surge with scattered screams and footsteps that rattle office tower glass. Clammy hands clutch paper signs– creased, weathered, sweat-damp. Cracked lips form words lost somewhere in the noise. Steady feet pound, in unison, against earth’s tired bones. The air, aroma thick with cardboard, tear gas, and smoke– but does anyone call this division? We speak of justice, but the scales tilt slow

Written by Angela Su from New Orleans, Louisiana, USA I am always circling back to things I meant to leave behind my mother’s keys hitting the glass bowl by the door, the smell of my grandpa’s closet, the way the shadows look through tent fabric at noon. I am always folding the map wrong, creasing the edges until the town names disappear. Shortcut, foolproof, auto-corrected– everything is optimized these days. Letting a road surprise you is now a memory drifting like faded in

Written by Eric Wu from Washington, USA Welcome back to our weekly blog post by Fox Schmooze. Today, we have brought to you a special...

Written by Violent Yan from Virginia, USA Such a fond lollipop-memory Childhood's beginnings all gummy drops  Life sweet in its sugar packet  A fairytale of possibility, of endless time Childhood's beginnings all gummy drops Before years march on to adolescence So that we wish for a return to a Life sweet in its sugar packet Before years march on to adolescence Barefoot dancing on shag carpet So that we wish for a return to Stress not enshrouding our shoulders  Barefoot danci

Written by Y. W. from Canada Thank you for your recent application to upgrade Canada from a sovereign nation to the “51st State.” We reviewed your proposal, that is, public threats, tantrum-filled tweets and musings about tearing up century-old treaties.    We must regretfully decline. Our universal healthcare has a compelling pull compared to a system that treats illness as an opportunity for profit.    We’d like to clarify that the 1908 treaty is a map, not a sketch. We don

Written by Amy Hou from Massachusetts, USA Weaving—a torturous tribute to her intellect, each strand rough against her fingertips, a reminder of the emotional wounds she carries.   The loom creaks under her constant attempts, the rhythmic sound that mirrors her longing.   As she carefully intertwines the rough strands, the fabric transforms into a painting of her grief, each knot a depiction of her heart's agony.   The muted and dismal hues of her tapestry reflect the shadows

Written by Alvin Su from Louisiana, USA I Remembrance - 缅怀  Monday, June 26th, 2023, Taipei   Accompanied by my father, we landed in Taiwan under a soft, grey sky. The air, thick with the smell of rain, clung to our clothes as if it too remembered things better left forgotten.   The old days are woven in like a piece of brocade with faded patches here and there,  certain memories now unclear and worn out. As I stood, the wind whispered through the willow trees like a gentle l

Written by Christine Wang from California, USA “The day clothes should make you look like a family on vacation. A pack of waterproof overalls is to be worn under  them. Keep your passport with you. Find the cab with the passenger side door’s window a quarter of the way rolled down, or look for the ashtray on the dashboard. Once someone finds the first car, the rest of you will pile in about fifteen minutes. Leave the hotel one by one once it’s dark. The cab drivers know where

Written by Albert Wang from Washington, USA The alarm rings again. Lights flicker on. The station comes to life. Another shining star in a sea of night. The man crawls out of the hard, circular cubicles they use for rest and gets to work.  Hundreds of them, shoved in a station far from any natural soil, throw themselves out of the relative safety of the station and into the cold, unforgiving void of space. With saws and lasers and bolt cutters, the engineers toil away, cuttin

Written by Vincent Lin from China They often say,  no rainbow without rain.  Well, the water’s poured all monsoon season —  unending, interminable, rainbowless.  Water curtains flood,  dappled with my despair,  friendships too broken to repair,  my life tangled like hair. “Sissy!” calls my “friend”,  and no one lends a helping hand.  Under dazzling neon lights,  they’re all fake as my feigned delight. Oh please...  tell me what I’ve done wrong,  for being born this way — born

Written by Cindy Miao from Maryland, USA The sunset filtered through the windows of the diner, painting my grandmother’s face in shades of brightness, each stroke easing away the lines of age on her face. “ Two miles to the market, 孩子 . Two miles on foot! You had to haggle with the merchant there- imagine: 10 yuan for one 葱油饼 . ”  My mother, who sat across the booth, gasped in disbelief. Sunlight also flooded her features, adding a defiant glint to her eyes.  “ 10 yuan? That’

Written by Vanessa Cheung from Hong Kong, China 190 BCE  Luyue, the Dew Month - Tenth Month of the Chinese Lunar Calendar  “Have you heard about that poor, poor darling?”  “Oh yes. Her father– that horribly zealous man, Chunyu Yi, the doctor who aspired all the way to devastation.” “His failure to save the life of a noblewoman led to his incarceration. What shall it be? Mutilation? Execution?”  “I wouldn’t linger on that. His daughter, though, the darling– Tinying. She makes

Written by Anonymous Dear Homophobic Bullies, I know you. You are the stranger who, upon seeing my rainbow flag lanyard at school, started laughing. You are the stranger who would continuously name-call me, single me out, and make me feel completely out of place. You are the stranger who hated me. But why?  Why did you see me as an enemy before you ever talked to me? Feel free to correct me if I am wrong, because maybe you did not hate me; instead, you hated what you saw in m

Written by Anonymous As a boy, I had an instinctive curiosity about dresses. Time and again, I would sneak into my mother’s dressing room, run my fingers through the hanging fabrics, and, if no one was watching, put one on in front of the mirror — a narrow-shouldered boy looked back at me from his overflowing dress.  Of course, these explorations were done with utmost vigilance and in absolute secrecy. Even at the age of four, a boy knows he is not supposed to wear dresses; h

Written by Eric Li from Texas, USA The first time Grandma disabled Mom’s petunia sprinkler system, I thought it was a betrayal of...

Written by Dolores Di from Texas, USA A bright light illuminated the boy's face.   “What is your name?” A soft female voice inquired.   “My name is Phoenix.”   “Is that your actual name?”   “My actual name is Tom, but I prefer Phoenix.”   In a poorly lit interrogation room, a young man, whose innocence had not yet faded away with the binding of his hands by handcuffs, calmly asked the police for a cigarette. He took the cigarette and lighter from the police and skilfully lit

Written by Yu Tung Shan from Massachusetts, USA Mattel - Association of Barbie Marketing & Sales Team Spring 2026 Sales Meeting  Minutes...

Written by Daniel Xu from Shanghai, China and Montreal Canada On a quiet night with the moon the only thing to shine through the...

Written by Miranda Le from California, USA I. A Guide to Crafting Your Own World (For Intermediate Creators) Dear Intermediate Creators,  As you embark on your world-making journey, this guide will lead you through the most essential steps. Every supernatural being must learn to weave their own dimension, but only the most skilled will create one that endures. Therefore, it is of utmost importance that you read this pamphlet with care.  I take pride in being among the most su

Written by Lauren Zheng from Canada “Stop talking, young lady, or you’ll be out in the hall.” That’s my first memory of you, terror of the second-graders. I was sitting on a lint-covered blue carpet with the others. (Except the carpet wasn’t quite blue, and I wasn’t quite with them.) You were watching us make paper stars.  (My paper wouldn’t fold the right way, my star deflating and crooked.) I was terrified of you. (I was terrified of being less than them.) But my mom forced