Inevitable Ham & Cheese
A liminal gas station on the edge of town serves ham-and-cheese, cigarettes, and uncanny prophecies in this Whimsy House poem by Joshua Walker (The Last Bard).
Read this prophecy →
Where the little truths go when
they’re tired of shouting.
Tiny Prophecies is a new community-built literary journal of Hearth, Ruin & Whimsy — publishing short poems, flash, and dreamlike works from writers everywhere.
"If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry."
~ Emily Dickinson
This is a small archive for people who feel too much: burnt-out empaths, whimsical witches, reluctant philosophers, soft creatures in a loud world.
Wander by mood using the buttons below. Let a title snag you. If something in you exhales while you’re reading, that piece was for you. If something in you starts to speak back, write it down—you’re already part of this place.
Tiny Prophecies isn’t meant to be a solo spellbook. If you have a poem, flash piece, or tiny fragment that feels like Hearth, Ruin, or Whimsy, I’d love to read it.
No fees. No pay yet (we’re small and growing), and you keep all rights— you’re just lending your words to this strange little hallway for a while.
Submit a ProphecyThree doorways into Tiny Prophecies.
Pick Hearth, Ruin, or Whimsy to change the weather.
Newest first. Follow the mood that tugs at you.
A liminal gas station on the edge of town serves ham-and-cheese, cigarettes, and uncanny prophecies in this Whimsy House poem by Joshua Walker (The Last Bard).
Read this prophecy →On the night of Quantica, a single choice to move differently cracks shame open and rewrites the body’s story in this Whimsy poem by Cole McNamara.
Read this prophecy →A note from the Department of Whimsy by Cole McNamara, diagnosing your inner spark as dusty, offended, and absolutely still dangerous in the best way.
Read this prophecy →a Whimsy poem by Cole McNamara written in nonsense tongue, where a many-eyed monster stalks Misember and language itself starts to shiver.
Read this prophecy →A pure Whimsy Tiny Prophecies poem by Cole McNamara, where bumblebee knees, glass turtles and lemonade seas turn night into a soft, surreal dream.
Read this prophecy →Tiny Prophecies is part of the Mercurial Silver creative universe — a shared community journal of poems, dreamwork, and strange light.