The short fiction of j hardy carroll
“Son, do you love your country?” It’s a hard question to answer. This is not due to my lack of patriotism, but because I’ve just taken a huge bite of blood-rare prime rib that is the Hunters’ Club Friday night special. My interlocutor is Major General Herford Hood, USMC (Retired), my perhaps-soon-to-be stepfather. I…
“Ready to rock and roll?” Clivers yelled. I could see his mustache through his kevlar face shield. “How confident are you the CI is good? You sure we have the right address this time?” “Lock and load!” He slammed the magazine into his MK18. He’d tricked the rifle out with so many gadgets and attachments…
I stare at the snow. “The yard almost looks nice,” I say before realizing there’s nobody to hear the conversation. Habits of a lifetime are not easily broken. His shoes stand by the door, right where he stepped out of them. The fever and coughing kept getting worse, so we decided on the hospital as…
She clutches her pearls in what has become a habitual gesture. At least her eyes are dry. Cried out, probably. “I’m glad you came, anyway,” she says, the last word an accusation. “It was the least I could do,” I answer lamely, thinking so that’s what I did. The least I could do. “Your brother was……
Dan pauses in the hallway and closes his eyes to listen. He made more noise than he wanted when he climbed through the basement window. Stealth is the most important part of this operation. He hears footsteps on the stairs, so he slips into the men’s room and locks himself in the stall. His heart…
He peers over his spectacles at the empty chapel, the Book of Common Prayer turned to the proper lectionary reading for the third week of Pentecost. His eyes fall on a line on the page: lighting upon the disciples, to teach them and to lead them into all truth. But what if there are no…
The little shit almost smiled when he brought me the envelope from Corporate. “No deviations, Howard. It is to be read exactly as written.” I’d been with KGIM since the Nixon administration, working my way up from cameraman to morning sports and weather to the Big Slot, the daily six-and-eleven newscast. I’d won countless awards…
Our guide was a good-looking boy with dark eyes and hair like Tony Curtis, olive skin. Well-dressed, but I could see his clothes were cheap, especially his shoes. His accent was so heavy I had a hard time understanding. “What?” I said. “Say it slowly so I can understand.” “Your faith. Are you a Christian?…
Jeff always liked to quote Mike Tyson: Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth. And we didn’t even have a plan. How could we, for something like that? It was so unreal that I couldn’t admit it was really happening until I saw Dolly lying there, blood soaking the bright yellow…
I don’t recognize her at first. Different clothes, different hairstyle. I smile, stand up. “Thanks for coming,” I say. “You want coffee?” “No thanks.” She sits. Her face is leaner, the high cheekbones defined. “You look great,” I say. “I’ve been doing crossfit.” “I hear that’s pretty grueling.” She flexes her bicep. “It’s paying off.”…