What does it mean to be seen, heard, loved, forgiven—or simply understood? In Thanks for Asking, forty award-winning stories from the Stringybark Short Story Awards explore the small moments and life-changing choices that shape who we are. Across country towns, city streets, family kitchens, train carriages, beaches and backroads, these stories introduce characters experiencing longing, loss, humour, resilience, mystery and hope. Some tales are tender, some unsettling, some sharply funny, but all resonate with the human experience. From quiet acts of courage to unexpected reckonings, each piece offers a fresh voice and a vivid glimpse into lives both ordinary and extraordinary. Selected by judges Meredyth Cilento, Julia Robertson, Antoinette Merrillees and David Vernon, this anthology showcases the strength and breadth of Australian contemporary short fiction. Whether you dip in for a single story or read cover to cover, you'll find writing that surprises, moves and stays with you long after the final page.

I turn to Mick. I know him as a gentle boy. We have shared kisses and more on hot summer nights. We have shared laughter, stories, and moments of joy. Today he is cold. I don't understand. "What is it?" I say, "What are you two laughing at?"

When Mick looks at me then, I feel it. I feel real fear. A bitter taste at the back of my mouth and a clenching deep inside. He looks at me with contempt. He has always laughed. He has always smiled. It is still a bright, sun-filled afternoon. It seems the wrong time to scream. I know something bad is coming.

— From Paradise Lost by Deb Pugh

Some duties of a haunted house employee were predictable. She was primarily a tour-guide – recounting every horrible historical detail of servants thrown into fireplaces and disabled farm boys locked in barns. With the property's view of the vast coastline, she wondered if it was a curse that drove past inhabitants insane, or just the overwhelming sense of isolation.

— From Ghost Hunter by Hayley Young

As an ex-copper turned fire crew captain, Blewy had learned to trust his instincts. And he knew there were really only two kinds of arsonists: those who lit fires for calculated ends, and those who needed to feed something dark.

The first used fire as a tool – insurance, warnings, leverage. Bikies torching rival tobacconists to protect turf and choke competition. Purposeful. Transactional.

The others were a breed apart.

— From Fire Storm by Des Brady

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