People said Mark was A Good Lad, but sometimes when he ran past my window I could taste blood. Feel the terror I felt when he broke my sister’s nose, and the shame. Once again I stood at a cold sink trying to wash blood from the lines in my hands. Continue reading The Lilac Line by Rhiannon Jones
I stare at him for a second too long and then flick some ash off my tights. We watch it fall one two three four floors down until it disappears. The air has changed, as if charged with uncomfortable static. I only came here for a fuck, and now he seems… upset. Continue reading Sink by HLR
Nancy and Sean were sat outside Coco’s Cafe, at a cast iron table that was warming in the sun. Leftover foam was drying in their coffee cups and imprinting itself on the china. Pigeons waddled close by, eyeing up scraps of baguette that had fallen to the concrete, unsure whether to approach. Sean was cleaning the lenses of his tortoise-shell sunglasses on the corner of his blue linen shirt. Continue reading The Ashes Can Wait by Chris Pleasance
Bandit Fiction 