PREE - Caribbean. Writing.

PREE 15 is here!

Aug 10, 2026 | PREE News | 0 |

PREE 15 is a bumper issue with twice, if not thrice, as many submissions as we usually recieve. This is probably due to the offer of monetary prizes for the three most outstanding entries. This issue was also open to writers from the global South and several authors from other countries submitted work. We will note those shortlisted as we upload their work and announce the winners on August 31st! Enjoy PREE 15 themed Precarity, Fragility, Vulnerability. We are excited by the quality of the submissions we received. As usual we will be adding to the issue each week until the full issue is up. Enjoy and let us have your feedback!

The Education of Marlene Joseph

Aug 10, 2026 | Fiction, OLUWANIFEMI BAKARE, PREE 15 | 0 |

A typical day is the twenty-minute walk to school because the money she saves on transport is money she can put toward the chalk she buys herself because the ministry allocation ran out in October. A typical day is thirty-eight children in a room built for twenty-five, and the heat, and Widline in the front row who is ten and reads at a level that would embarrass children in Lyon, who reads with her whole body tilted toward the page as if leaning into a wind.

The Fisherman

Aug 10, 2026 | Fiction, PREE 15, SHEHRYAR SARWAR | 0 |

A news bulletin plays on the TV. Another action by the big navy that has been patrolling the waters of the Caribbean. Grainy black-and-white images, a boat in the water, crosshairs superimposed, a flash that suddenly lights up the screen.

Peace

Aug 10, 2026 | ANTOINETTE TIDJANI ALOU, Poetry, PREE 15 | 0 |

Finally, you will see how
succulence is costly, my Chiquita,
when you are dished out, a poor man’s pudding,
innocent of batter, of cream, of a platter.

Cuba a Bawl Living Eye Wata

Aug 10, 2026 | COURTNEY CONRAD, Poetry, PREE 15 | 0 |

no tourists’ lips savouring our rum and cigars.
I’m thinking of the four hundred closed Western Unions
as bone saws, severing outstretched limbs, offering remittances.

Piece of Sea

Aug 10, 2026 | Fiction, PREE 15, SAMARA BABOOLAL | 0 |

As the nighttime sighed, Mr. and Mrs. Caridad drifted into the same dream.
They lay face down on the ocean, floating along its silky surface, naked, and draped in moonlight’s velvety glow. The water was red, and it was white, and it was blue, all at the same time. Schools of silver-scaled fish, sparkling like jewels, swam eagerly into the open hands of the couple. Each fish multiplied, over and over, until the red-white-blue ocean was nothing but silver flesh and scale.

ON AI, LITERATURE AND THE MYTH OF HUMAN EXCEPTIONALISM

Jul 11, 2026 | ELNATHAN JOHN, PREE VIEWS 5 | 0 |

If we are thinkers, if we are writers, if we are people who claim to care about language and public life, then our task is not to guard a shrinking shrine of purity. Our task is to shape conditions under which language remains accountable, human dignity remains non-negotiable, labor remains visible, power remains contestable, and beauty remains possible.

PREE 15 Update!

Jun 12, 2026 | PREE News | 0 |

For all those who submitted work to be considered for PREE 15 we ask for your patience. We...

PREE Writing Studio 2026

May 2, 2026 | PREE News | 0 |

For more information please visit...

Between States: Jag Mehta and Portia Subran

Apr 17, 2026 | PREE News | 0 |

Don’t miss this, tomorrow only!! @thelittlenameless.art in Kingston with @jagmehtaceramics Repost from @preelitmag • 👋 TOMORROW! Join us at BETWEEN STATES, a one-day open studio exhibition co-produced with the School of Visual...

THE CLOUDS USED TO BE GRAND

Mar 18, 2026 | B.H. SCHAFER, Brawta, Fiction, PREE 14 | 0 |

I spent my days inside a cubicle, tacking digits into a spreadsheet, or sending emails — a bureaucratic ventricle that existed between crisscrossing red tape whose sole job, aside from busywork, was to pass the buck along. It wasn’t bad, especially surrounded by those in the same lot. And there was free water.

WASH BELLY

Mar 9, 2026 | Brawta, Non Fiction, PREE 14, SONI BROWN | 0 |

Nights transformed her. The cold cream smell as she slathered it on her face would draw me to her bedroom. Perched on her bed, I became not a future wife, but a treasured consigliere. She whispered obeah spells, taught me to commune with the dead and to sense evildoers’ vibrations. I learned to brew ancestor-calling potions and plant money-summoning shrubs.