The short fiction of j hardy carroll
“It will only be for a few weeks,” she told them, raising her voice over the wails of the other children. “Be brave for Mummy.” “And Daddy too,” said Christiana. Maude looked at her daughter as though for the first time, the blue coat buttoned up as though it was already winter, the way she…
Ndugu studies his watch, the first he has ever owned. Real gold, the man told him, holding up a magnifier so Ndugu could verify the truth of his statement. A Rolex, no less, and only thirty dollars. A day’s wages, but Ndugu’s room and meals were provided by his cousin, so he reached into his…
I smoke a cigarette as I walk along the Quai Saint-André, cupping it in my hand. I have always smoked this way. Done everything this way, really. Concealment. I watch a grain barge chugging up the St. Lawrence churning brown froth as it passes. I flick the butt into the river and turn back toward…
Two seamen carried Lord Nelson down through the smoke to the cockpit with infinite care, Captain Hardy following close behind. The buckle of Hardy’s shoe clattered against the deck as he walked, severed by a splinter blasted from the taffrail by the Redoutable’s broadside. In the muffled din of the cockpit, Nelson offered a thin smile.…
New York is the “city that never sleeps,” but for genuine insomnia you can’t top Las Vegas. I stroll though the airport at 3AM after eighteen hours of hell in O’Hare. The place is sprawling, with garish islands of slot machines strategically placed to shake out the nickels of passersby. It’s there I see her,…
Dick and Mike sit at the kitchen table playing two-handed rummy. Dick is drinking whiskey. Mike is drinking beer. He grunts every so often when he lays down his cards, but other than that they aren’t talking. The phone rings, making all of us jump. Margaret goes to the wall and picks up the receiver.…
It was Royger’s fourth attempt at The Knowledge. He knew he might come a cropper when he saw that his examiner was Stoneface Cavendish, the dean of London cabbies. “Streatham A-2 to Stour Road, if you please,” said Cavendish. Royger took a deep breath and fixed his eyes to a spot on the table. “I…
John Dory made a song about it, how they come in iron ships, how they say they make the world free for us. How we heroes. He wrote it serious, which made it even funnier. Now they come and say we can go back to Enewetak, that it’s safe after all their experiments. They tell…
The younger children squealed when Marisol brought out the cake. “It’s a lamb!” cried Anna. “It’s just shaped like one,” said Marisol, setting it on the table. “I used a mold. The eyes are gumdrops, and the fleece is made of coconut.” “What’s inside?” asked Luiz, the only boy at the party. “Guts?” Marisol smiled.…
They sat on the hard bench in the waiting room. The deputy had his feet up on his desk to show the visitors his bored indifference. Hosea glanced at John, erect and proper in a good blue suit and white shirt, clenched hands the only indication of his growing impatience. John rose and walked over…