Author Archives: Ben Drevlow

Two Stories

Two Stories

FLASH FICTION by

They call you the “Flying Squirrel.” It’s a stupid moniker, one you used to try to drop. Back when you cared about those kinds of things. You used to care about a lot of things you’ve sacrificed over the years, along with your pride, your relationship with your son, and plenty of your brain cells.more

The Scent of Daffodils

The Scent of Daffodils

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To confront your suspicions, go to paragraph 4. To trust this is just paranoia and finish breakfast with your family, go to paragraph 5.more

Ray

Ray

FLASH FICTION by

I knew about dreams. I knew they could cost you what you already had, if you weren’t paying attention. If you spent too long keeping your eye on the wrong prize. They could cost you your wife, your house, your kid. If those things didn’t cost you your dreams first. I never figured out which cost me which.more

Shock and Awe ’03

Shock and Awe ’03

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Outside, the sky is island blue. No clouds. No wind. No hint of the dormant volcano below.more

The 99 Days of Hell

The 99 Days of Hell

FICTION by

The couple said, “it will get better.” They said, “let’s do that tomorrow.” They said, “we got through today and it could’ve been worse.” They said, “God willing,” and they said, “from your mouth to God’s ears.” The husband said, “that’s like robbing Peter to pay Paul,” and death rattled inside him.more

Stacking Napkins

Stacking Napkins

FICTION by

Working somewhere as temporary and replaceable as a fast food restaurant, you can pick a new identity and try it on for a season. I become obedient, quiet. It’s easier that way.more

Two Shorties

Two Shorties

FLASH FICTION by

I woke up on a podcast—the host asking, “What do you think about the plight of zebras?” I tried remembering their plight. Zebras? Zebras? Had I recently seen something? On my feed? I’d search Twitter, but my iPhone was in my purse. This whole time I sat thinking, I tried keeping a neutral but slightly pensive look. “Spinach,” I said.more

The Last King of the Skinheads

The Last King of the Skinheads

FICTION by

They drank to the good times, and then drank the good times away. It wasn’t two years in until she stabbed him in the gut in the middle of the night after catching him messaging multiple other girls on his burner phone.more

Visit Clearwater Beach!

Visit Clearwater Beach!

CREATIVE NONFICTION by

Don’t blame yourself that you expected the bartender’s age to equate to maturity. It’s not your fault that your dad died four months ago and he never showed you an example of a good man anyway. It’s not your fault that you’re the worst kind of cliche now.more

PRACTICE

PRACTICE

FICTION by

Monday night, judo class. Ishaan is on top of me, struggling with his grip. Though sensei Frank just demonstrated the choke for us, slowly, thoroughly, Ishaan’s already forgotten the hand work. His thin fingers grasp and re-grasp on my lapels, his knuckles grazing my face.more