Martian Publishing

08/01/2025

Martian Publishing – Emancipation Day Message 2025

Emancipation Day should always remind us that our freedom came at a cost. Our ancestors fought tooth and nail for every inch of space, every right to exist, and every trace of dignity. That struggle was not just about the past; it is a warning for today.

Too often, we still see the same patterns. Work is created but not credited. Art is used yet the artist’s name is forgotten. During slavery, our labor was stolen. Now, it happens in new ways. The fact that people have to ask, “Who created this artwork?” says it all. Recognition should not be optional.

We are still waiting to hear what became of the $100 million set aside for the Year of the People of African Descent. Where did it go? Who benefitted? These are not questions that should be ignored.

As for ACDA, yes, they may have programs, but if people keep saying they only see them during Emancipation, then something is missing. Visibility and consistency are part of leadership. The community must feel your presence year-round, not just in August.

At Martian Publishing, we believe in telling our own stories, naming our creators, and guarding the culture that belongs to us. Freedom is not just a day on the calendar. It is something we have to fight for in every space where our work and our voices exist.

Wishing everyone a meaningful Emancipation Day.

07/08/2025

“She Craved Intimacy”
by Martian Nella

She craved intimacy.
Not s*x.
Not hands on her body.
Not someone lying beside her out of habit.
She craved the kind of presence that required no announcement.
The kind where a glance could expose everything she'd been holding back.
The kind of closeness that didn’t demand her to explain her silence - just understand it.

He was there.
Right there.
Sleeping next to her.
Laughing in the kitchen.
Touching her waist in public.
And still -
she missed him.

She missed them.
The version of them that felt electric, present, connected -
not this dull hum of routine and half-finished conversations.
She watched him move through their life together like a man content.
Happy, even.
But she could see it for what it was -
a man used to chaos, now mistaking quiet for joy.
A man clinging to comfort
because it felt better than the pain he’d survived.

She loved him.
Deeply.
But she couldn’t help but wonder:
Was she settling into this because it was safe?
Was he loving her the best he could,
or just giving what was left after the world drained him?

Because that’s what she always got -
the last of him.
The scraps of his spirit
after everyone else had taken the brightest parts.
She smiled through it.
Softened her voice.
Lowered her needs.

But inside,
she was starving.

She longed for the conversations that used to last for hours.
For the way they used to ask each other real questions.
Not What’s for dinner?
Not What time’s the meeting?
But How’s your heart?
Are we okay?

She wanted him to notice
when she was pulling away -
not because she didn’t love him,
but because she was tired of giving and not being met.

And it hurt.
Because she knew how much he carried.
He was a provider.
A protector.
But emotional intelligence was more than survival —
it was presence.
And presence was what she needed most.

She knew he thought she was patient.
And she was.
But even patience wears thin
when every day feels like she’s asking for something
that should come naturally to love.

She didn’t want to be the one who left.
But she knew one day,
it wouldn’t be another woman that pulled her away.
It wouldn’t be betrayal.
It wouldn’t be distance.

It would be time.
Time -
the slow, quiet thief
that steals intimacy
one unsaid feeling at a time.

And one morning,
he’d roll over and reach for her,
and realize she wasn’t there -
not because she stopped loving him,
but because she stopped asking to be loved in return.

07/08/2025

The Ole Higue Family
When a new man move into the village, nobody
really study he at first. He quiet, clean-cut,
polite. Say “good morning,” nod at old people,
mind he business.
But everything change the moment he start
walking with she.
Pretty girl—nice hair, quiet mouth, but eyes that
look like they know plenty.
From then, the whole village start watching him
different.
People stop talking when he pass. Old ladies pull
children off the road. Even shopkeeper whisper
prayers when he pay with exact change.
One afternoon, he pull aside an old man by the
bridge and ask:
“Big man, tell me something… why everybody
watching me like I does raise dead?”
The man squint, lean in close, and say:
“You mean to tell me you ain’t know?”
“Know what?”
“The girl you deh with… she’s ah ole higue.”
8
The man laugh nervously. “Nah man. That’s me
girl. She cook, she clean, she quiet.”
The old man suck he teeth.
“Yuh ears hard, bai. People seeing red light fly
out she window midnight time. Skin hangin up
on clothesline like wet shirt. And you deh there
sleeping next to that?”
That night, the man couldn’t sleep. Not even a
nap. He lay in bed, watching her out the corner
of his eye………..
Read the rest in Sweetie Lies & Flying Skins!
You got yours yet?

07/06/2025

Did you get your copy yet?

07/06/2025

You don’t need hype. You need ownership.
You need Martian Publishing. Own your work.

05/06/2024

05/06/2024

Pick a crew

01/17/2024

Warren Buffet - " Multiple streams of income is a necessity, You must invest to create a second source"

PHONE 📱 or LAPTOP 💻❓
💰 Direct Deposit EVERY Thursday
💴 Paid up to 8x a month $ Part time and/or full time
Must have internet access, hands on training starts tomorrow!!!
Who's ready to get started today❓

01/17/2024

Breakfast In Bali?

01/17/2024

Girls Trip?

12/25/2023

May the joy of the season be with you all and may the new year be blessed. Merry Christmas & Happy New Year from the Management & Staff of Tranquility by BDE