The short fiction of j hardy carroll
Seattle I am sitting by the window at Pho Vîet on Pike when I see my ex wife walk past, arms swinging and happy like she used to be before the bad times. I don’t even have time to knock on the glass when my childhood best friend goes past in the other direction, riding my bike he…
A bunch of us came out. Heck, practically the whole town. We didn’t have no particular business there. Just something to do. Sheriff’s men were there, along with some state troopers. They had got the whole marsh cordoned off with that crime scene tape you see on TV. By the time we got there, they…
Dreams in the night. Waking dreams. Now she is wandering through the small town airport dragging the suitcase behind her like a reluctant child. Her eyes scan the expanse of glittering floor, the sea of worn blue carpet. A woman in uniform smiles, asks if she may help. Another city. Days later, or years. Eternal. She…
Max always came in around three, a folded New York Times in his pocket. I’d have his drink ready before he sat down at the bar. Max dressed like a college professor, tweed jacket and sweater vest. He always sat on the same stool. Midway through his second drink he’d ask for the dictionary. We’d spend the afternoon working together through the crossword puzzle.…
“Stephens,” said Mr. Wentworth. “When you’ve finished your lunch I need to see you in my office.” Stephens took his time, made his thermos of tea last the full half hour. Screwing the top back on, he placed the container into his messenger bag and brought it with him. He knew what was coming. The office…
Raymie was with me until he saw a run-boat set adrift in the crest, jumped out and fetched it in. He offered me a spot, but I trusted him less than the cops who told me to evacuate. He took most of my water and all of my food, piled it into that boat until it was almost under. I couldn’t…
Perhaps it was the long despair of seasickness that kept him to his bunk as the Carpathia opened New York Harbor. Perhaps it was fear. He never spoke of it, the long nights of silently crying into his blanket as remorse overtook him, the longer days when he could not sleep and was left to wander the vast, anonymous…
Aitor shook his stick at the BMW crawling its way up the steep road to Bayonne. “Fucking Germans,” he spat. “In a hurry to get to their hotel, no doubt. Probably called ahead to have whores waiting for them.” “Daddy!” said Eguzkiñe, pretending to be shocked. “It’s true, darling girl. All Germans are horny as goats. That’s why we…
The boy had disappeared now, his promised bargain an obvious sham. How could I be so stupid? she thought. Then, that should be my mantra. She tightened the strap on her purse and tugged it around so it lay flat on her belly. She imagined this would be how a mother might protect a newborn. Or perhaps…
Old John was safe buried by the time winter fell full, thank God. The bone-break cold came first, terrible weeks of it, the ground iron hard before the first snows came. At first we thought to conserve our coal and built niggardly fires you could snuff with one hand, but Maisie said we would run…