Tag: fiction


fiction by Jack Hostrawser second place fiction winner of the 2017 Blodwyn Memorial Prize, sponsored by BookThug — “‘Winnie’ is an exemplary story in all aspects: from characters to pacing to the prose itself—so clear and crisp it is almost transparent. The story drew us in immediately and never let us go. The moment you finish, you want to jump… Read more →

The Circles of Sober Hell

fiction by Brady Tighe — 1st Circle of Sober Hell The Unmade Bed of Sleepless Hot Nights It’s too hot to sleep, and so you toss and turn among the sheets and find no comfort. Every position gnaws at you; every side of the pillow is the wrong side. Lying awake, you go through all of you the mistakes you’ve… Read more →

Japan Has No Milk

fiction by Christopher Alexander Hayter — Japan disconnects. Japan wants some milk. Japan notices the dimensions and the camera. Japan stares at its tense keeper. Japan brings its own commentator. Japan stalls. Japan condemns the keeper. Japan remembers the communist anniversary. Japan doubles as a market, notices the horizon, the sun. Japan thinks. Japan is a philosopher—Japan speaks—why can’t Japan… Read more →

(parenthetical) issue seventeen contributors

— table of contents — Hana Alharastani hails from Michigan and is currently an MFA candidate studying fiction at the University of Central Florida. When she’s not trying to save the world, she works as the assistant fiction editor and social media coordinator for The Florida Review. Steve Bourdeau teaches English culture and literature at a small college deep in… Read more →


fiction by Nadia K. Brown — It wasn’t so much the bridge that troubled him, but the flowering Weigela that grew alongside it. It was June, and the air was thick with the Weigela’s citrus scent. Overloaded with clusters of white and crimson, its branches dipped toward the swollen river. Delicate petals spilled across the wrought-iron rail. They tumbled, unconcerned,… Read more →


fiction by Emily Kellogg — He checked the time. He was late. He paced the living room. She would be angry. He thought about the pleading look in her eyes, the slump of her spine, the sucking noise she made biting dead skin off of her lips. The room was warm. He shuddered. He scraped well-kept nails over the red… Read more →


fiction by Taylor Lauren Ross — Diana tried to console herself, now that David was gone, with his foibles. He put their tiny office trashcan against the floor to brush crumbs into it instead of using a dustpan. He squeezed the toothpaste from the middle and expected her to laugh at all of his jokes, even the ones that didn’t… Read more →


fiction by Sarah K. Stephens —   People come in with the astringent ding of a bell, the soft pseudo-decontamination of the hydraulic pistons on the sliding door, and think that this place is a sterile fortress. No one associates smells with convenience stores—they’re not in them long enough to register the waxy melt of the nacho cheese or the… Read more →