
Introducing POINT BLOC
Our regular blog contributor Sam Burt shares another exciting project for readers of Bandit to get behind. Continue reading Introducing POINT BLOC
Our regular blog contributor Sam Burt shares another exciting project for readers of Bandit to get behind. Continue reading Introducing POINT BLOC
In the middle of the sofa seat is a large damp spot. Richard bends down to have a closer look and puts his finger tentatively on the spot. It’s cold and sticky. He recoils, his brain notching up a gear: It couldn’t be? And, anyway, if it was he’d surely try and hide it? And I’m not checking, sniffing. But he does sniff and closes his eyes when he does, he’s not sure why. “Fuck! Fucking hell!” He thinks about checking the bedding in the bag. It feels too much, sordid, but also straightforwardly forensic, a conclusive step down the line to confirming something he’s not sure he wants to confirm right now. But against this instinct, a stronger impulse makes him pull the sheet from the bag. The same spot is on the sheet and when he places the sheet on the sofa the spots merge in a perfect match. Continue reading The Spot by Alan McCormick
I stop dead, startled. Her image catches my eye, small and desolate, staring out from the laminated paper. A monochrome photograph with a screaming pink border – it’s hard to miss. Someone has neatly attached the poster to a street light opposite the river, so that anyone walking toward Stratford centre will see it. Continue reading Missing by Amy Elizabeth Doherty
For a country that prides itself on lemons, we only have three groves in the town. One is perched high above the cliff road, the tree roots sprawling over the brick wall. The other is a private residence, and you can only glimpse it from the right side of the house, the lemons flashing like orbs of light. Continue reading The Lemon Grove by Maria Clark
Voices rasping, eyebrows beetling, they declared: “This is it. Your lives shall be ever foul. You think yourselves valuable. Cogs in the machine. But when one of you falls, ten spring from the dirt in your place. What They owe you, They shall never give you.” Continue reading They Told My Friend by Amita Basu
We have our happy routines: Job Centre on a Monday, Wetherspoon’s on a Thursday, kebabs on a Friday at the start of the month, then beans with a flipped egg to garnish when the giro runs dry. The boys keep the kitchen clean and I do the lounge. The bathroom is no man’s land – it’s functional, but you wouldn’t want to be trapped there for longer than needs be. Continue reading We Still Don’t Use The Garage by SJ Townend
I was brave, I knew I was, but the ride was far too high. I shook my head small enough to not be defiant. Even though I wanted to see the ocean in the distance. Even though I wanted to be away for just a few minutes and get the sea air on my face. It was too high even for him, and he knew I knew it. Continue reading I Thought It Was Tough Love by Jimmy Webb
Though the Outcasts were apprehensive of The Towers, few could resist the strange longing they compelled. Nobody should hold themselves to blame for this, the Ultras taught. Lusting after the cold and distant reminders of their loss of paradise was no sin provided each Outcast understood the shining obelisks for the harbingers of hell they truly were. Continue reading Where Have All the Flowers Gone? by Robert Lumsden
When her husband was at home, she tried to be the best wife she could, and when he wasn’t, she tried to be the best mother she could. But all was in vain; the knight couldn’t, or maybe didn’t want to, see the effort she was making for the family. The balls at the castle became less and less frequent, and her husband sought the company of the bottle instead. Continue reading Dama Bianca by Urška Vidoni
In this way, Carl Trampler’s military career ended in a less than honourable discharge. And in those days a discharge like that could mark you for life. You would never get any decent kind of job, like at GE in Schenectady, or even with the Post Office. Continue reading Hammer and Sickle by Michael Cooney
The letter fae the agency is burnin a hole in ma poakit. Should ah huv telt her about it? Ah think mibbe ah should’ve, but then ah remember the way she’s been puttin me doon and how she’s been bang oot ay order. Nae chance. Continue reading One Green Bottle by Gerald Green
Or what if your mother asks you for the hundredth time if you’ve looked into any new jobs related to your bachelor’s degree in philosophy? Do you tell her, No, Mother, I haven’t. I’m going to suck the teat of the government checks until the money runs dry and Avery eats her own tongue to survive? No. Continue reading Say What You Mean by Chris Marek
I arrive at the party, ruddy cheeked and out of breath. I surprise myself by naturally joining in conversations. I have things to say! I confidently decline cocktails, wine and beer, but at this point in my recovery I have not yet put down the weed. I go ahead and smoke what’s offered. I tell myself, Why not? It’s a party… Continue reading Allergy by Patricia Bamford
Helen thought it was strange, but pre-emptive purchases couldn’t be right one hundred percent of the time. Though, they were right most of the time, which made it seem like they could predict the future, but they couldn’t. For one thing, she wasn’t at all certain how Amazon had known that she and Pete had lost the corkscrew they’d already had, but it was more likely that that wasn’t what had happened at all – most likely, they’d bought that one from Amazon and statistically they were right around the point that most people either lost or broke theirs. Maybe it was even designed to break after about two years. Continue reading Amazon Super Prime by Remy Maisel
I once put a suit that cost as much as your car in the bin. The jacket had a bleach splatter just below the breast pocket. It had been a really unique shade of blue. Kind of like my mother’s eyes I would tell people, even though I couldn’t remember what colour eyes she’d had. It was a magnificent suit, and the bleach damage was … Continue reading Greedy Bird by Julian Harvard
How does a publisher decide which submissions are good and which aren’t? What makes something ‘publishable’? And, perhaps more importantly, what makes something ‘unpublishable’? Continue reading How The Bandit Submissions Process Works
content warning: suicide This is not a cry for help. If it were, I’d be standing on the eastern edge of this multi-storey car park – directly above the busy bars and nightclubs – so all the Saturday-evening drinkers could witness my final fall. I’d linger on the ledge long enough to cause a scare and soak up the sympathy before deciding to give life … Continue reading Ten Sheets to the Wind by David Christopher Johnston
First published in The Womb Department Anthology content warning: death Dressed in the cleanest clothes she has, Wendy shops at Grocery Giant on Mondays when selection is best, her pocket full of coins. People give the most on Sundays. She nods to the cashiers as she enters the store. They call the manager: “Crackers is here.” Wendy shops in aisle six – Snacks. She passes the candy and the chocolate because … Continue reading Crackers by Karen Walker