by Kimmy Larksong and Liza Flum
Lace up your boots. Put on a knit hat and scarf and go out into the autumnal twilight. Crows, cawing, swoop across the sky. You tighten your coat against a chill as you pass an old graveyard on your way to the woods. You were alone, but soon, you won’t be. You hesitate at its edge—then close your eyes, and step in.
Drift into the shade and inhale deeply; fill your lungs with rot and petrichor. Look up at branches as you pass beneath them. Witness their leaves die, break off, and spin to the ground. Look to where they’ve fallen: mushrooms, billowing out of the wet soil. Mycelium. It pulses. It breathes. It’s alive, and it speaks, to the mushrooms, and to the trees that surround you, that loom over your head. And it knows all that it can reach, and all that is buried. Press your ear to its spider-silk tendrils. Close your eyes again. Listen closely. If you do, then you just might hear the faintest whisper, divulging the secrets entangled in the twisted roots below.
Sounds of stories past spill out from the dirt. Michelle Pearles offers the hollow squawking of a raven, come to snare a soul that wondered too far from its dream. Kendra Currie’s fingers dance on ivory keys, to a cheerful tune that makes you weep. Aaron M. echoes the screeching tires of a car that failed to swerve around a helpless faun. Toni De Luca recollects a tantalizing reminder of sweetness from a familial ghost. Z. Hunter Scribner warns you of the bells ringing from somewhere in the deep. It’s too much, all these truths revealed.
When the Northern Spy editors first conceived of this special issue on twisted roots, we sought work that would reveal the secret face of our spring folio on new beginnings. Yet the authors you are about to encounter do more. They trace the histories and hauntings that form us. Perhaps their twisted roots will help you to discover your own. Keep your ear to the mycelium. Dig into the soil where you are kneeling. Look closer. Discover the hidden scaffold of the world.
About the Authors:
Kimmy Larksong (she/her) is an autistic writer and artist from the Eau Claire area, Wisconsin. She currently lives in Belgium with her husband Odin, a biomedical researcher, and their bunnies and chickens. When she isn’t creating, Kimmy volunteers as a wild animal rehabilitator. She cares for everything, from owls to foxes. The baby doves are her favorite. Her favorite apple is Magic Star, a Belgian exclusive, because they are always crisp, never sandy or spongy, and their flavor is the perfect balance between sweet and tangy. Her stories have been featured in The No Sleep Podcast, Flash & Dazzle Magazine, and The Piker Press, and her artwork has appeared in Flash Frog, Northern Spy Journal, and The Art of Autism. She serves as an intern and editor for Northern Spy. See her artwork or say hi @kimmy.creatures on Instagram.
Liza Flum (she/her) is the author of Hover (Omnidawn Publishing), a 2026 Lambda Award finalist in Bi Poetry and the winner of the 2026 Eugene Paul Nassar Poetry Prize. Her poetry has appeared in AGNI, Narrative, Meridian, Washington Square Review, Lambda Literary, and Zócalo Public Square. She is a recipient of a Barbara Deming artist grant, and her writing has been supported by fellowships from the Saltonstall Foundation, the Vermont Studio Center, Aspen Summer Words, and the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center. She lives with her family in the Finger Lakes region of New York, where she teaches at Finger Lakes Community College and serves as editor-in-chief of Northern Spy. Her favorite apple is the Granny Smith.