The short fiction of j hardy carroll
She gets out the car, phone in her hand. Her brother is waiting for her on the jetty, his tie askew. She points at it. “Aren’t you going to take that off now? The lawyer didn’t come.” He smiles, tugs the tie around like noose, sticks his tongue out. “Grim,” she smiles, turning back to…
The storm blew for three days, took the remaining mast and two of the older children as they bailed with their little hands in a desperate attempt to keep the boat from swamping. Suong had helped as much as she could, but fifty days on the sea had left her so weak she could hardly sit up.…
I lay on face down the cracked tile, near the toilet. Its base was ringed with grime, and I could see what looked like a tuft of pubic hair wadded in the corner. My right eye was swollen shut, but the left one seemed unharmed. I wondered how long before someone found me. The hotel had seemed…
The doctor sits across from us at the steel table, mouth pursed. My wife’s hand goes clammy in mine. “Well,” says the doctor, “aside from the things he says he sees, your son does not show any signs of mental illness. None.” “That’s a relief,” I say, smiling. “Isn’t it, honey?” “You said aside from the things…
The priest walks around the cluttered work table, drags a finger down its surface and holds it up for inspection. He scowls and wipes it on his cassock, walks slowly up the stairs to the kitchen. He stands before her, hands clasped behind him. “Listen, daughter. I came to speak to your husband about his reputation. I do…
The Egypt Air flight from LaGuardia was delayed six hours for mechanical trouble, but the real trouble came at customs. The official scanned her passport, held it up against a clipboard. “Excuse me, Miss,” he said, and disappeared through a door. He returned with two soldiers carrying machine guns. Amaka was led back to a small room…
Word comes down from our senior officers to prepare for evacuation. We busy ourselves making rucksacks and gathering our belongings. I linger in the room and pry up the floorboard to my hidey hole. One of the cartons of cigarettes is missing. In its place is a small German army musette bag. I open the flap.…
She agrees to meet me at the museum. I know the second I see her. It’s on her face. Doom. I smile anyway. “You remember this place?” I say, as though nothing is wrong. As though last night had never happened. “Our first date?” “It wasn’t a date,” she says. “We need to talk.” “We…
This is an excerpt from a story I wrote in 2013. It is just a little too long to be published by a literary magazine (assuming that’s even an option). The character, Stuart Dulley, appears in four stories so far. Stuart Dulley left the office with his hat in his hand and the list…
The grass was heavy with dew as we walked across Phoenix Park, the sky pale with the false dawn. What it would have been like for them? The two black carriages parked beneath the trees, their seconds pacing the grounds as they loaded the pistols and checked the flints. Fitzgerald would have preferred they use small swords. Two…