When he caught me looking, I laughed, but it wasn’t so much because it was small and squirrely but more because I was surprised and a little taken aback, and didn’t know any other way to react. Continue reading With his tail between his legs by Daniela Esposito
A couple in ice-blue jeans, silk kurtas, and sunhats turn to glare. I understand: they’re policing social distancing. I await my turn outside. Fingering their PM-95 masks for a perfect seal, they turn away. Continue reading Fish by Amita Basu
“Some salesman from earlier, trying to sell me health insurance. I stupidly scanned the QR code for their website, I must’ve inadvertently consented to being contacted.” Continue reading The Salesman by Chris Farrington
When life hasn’t turned out the way you hoped, nor have you found a way – yoga, God, Prozac – to make peace with it, you dream that you’re pregnant. Your baby needs clothes and bottles and a pram and a playmat. You dream of the brood of mums-to-be waddling out of your living room arm in arm. A folded pram in their boot, a bag containing a scented layette on their lap. Your baby’s pram, your baby’s layette, your baby’s scent. You want it all back. Continue reading The Red Romper by Eleonora Balsano
On my knees, I reach behind the toilet, but my phone isn’t there. I crawl to the mattresses and reach into the space between bed and wall, finding only used tissues, hairbands and dust. I shake out the sheets and toss the pillows. Nothing. I dig through the clothes on the futon until I reach the dirty red slipcover. Still no phone, not even a handful of coins for a payphone. Continue reading That Thing I Lost by Tara Van De Mark
Something small rustles furtive by her feet. Absently she braces her hand on a gnarled trunk and follows its contortions with her fingers. Chatter punctuates the air. A ripple of mocking laughter, and too late she’s seized by memory’s bright claws: pale wax, a stain on patterned fabric. Wiry hair glinting in lamplight. Continue reading Her Last Catch by Leila Martin
It seemed like God wasn’t listening, but my mother was used to that. She petted the peach fuzz on my arm and prayed so hard her soul lifted off from her chest on its crow wings and so my little hand twitched under her fingers. Continue reading The Healing by Maureen O’Leary
Ladies and Gentlemen, now that you have all finished the cake – we avoided fruitcake and nuts for obvious reasons – it’s speech time. First, I need to point out that the emergency exits are clearly marked. Hopefully you won’t use them. Continue reading To Absent Friends by Sam Fairlea
Some children did dances and jokes. One did an impression of Homer Simpson, but most of us sang to each other. My number was in the second half, and I spent most of the fire taking indecipherable photos on my disposable camera, trying to decide what I should sing. Continue reading Copycat by Phoebe Thomson
“Your pa’s Toadman. Your pa’s Toadman,” the boy sang over and over as he followed her home from the market. He scuffed the scree along the path, provoking dust and picking up stones to pelt her back. A sliver of flint ricocheted off her right ear, a misthrow, drawing blood. She wanted to turn around then and face him, to bare her knuckles like teeth and punch-punch-punch his freckled nose until his vest matched the rust of his hair. Continue reading ToadGirl by Kerry Byrne
The whole thing had begun two years before when we were travelling through Chile. We’d never had kids, but the absence hadn’t left us unmarked and, as we sat in a dusty bar drinking warm beer, Lily had been distracted by a table of travellers half our age. Continue reading The Procedure by Nicholas John Greenfield
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
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
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
Originally published in Sky Island Journal. I. Arthur squinted into the tall, rectangular window of his eighth-floor office, then out at the horizon. The flood of fluorescent winter daylight on his eyes felt painful, almost unbearable. His gaze shifted downwards, myopically, towards the bottom of the window. A water beetle lay dead but upright between the double-paned glass for what had probably been years, its … Continue reading Latent Life by Sherin Bual
He tries to remember their time at the allotment. The crack of dawn. Spring. Clear blue sky, sunshine, fresh. He was ready, spade in hand, to help her turn some soil. Along the edge of the path, she crouched down to show him something: a clump of spreading green foliage, webbed fingers covered with tiny droplets of water like glass beads. Lady’s Mantle, she had called it. What a strange name for a plant, he had thought. Continue reading Lady’s Mantle by Leon Coleman
Another woman comes up to me, shaking my hand. This one has wispy hair, a dark dress, she’s old – and, before you ask, I don’t know how old, Granny. Just old. Anyway, she says she’s called Susan, and Susan is telling me that you were in London together in your early twenties, during the war. Apparently when the air raid warning went off you would run to the shelter together, and when you were there, huddled underground with strangers in the dark, she would play guitar and you would sing, and people knew the two of you as the musical girls from Mayfield Street. Continue reading Wheelbarrow Rides, and Fractions of You by Kate Wilkinson
Bandit Fiction 