The short fiction of j hardy carroll
It is the obvious thing we find may never be understood, a phantom limb that begs to bear weight The last place we look is where we find it. Only a fool would keep looking, then. A bed showing the shape of sleeper is unmade, sloppy. The pea under the mattress is a thing you…
Hughie leaned the 12-gauge against the doorframe, handy but hidden. He stepped onto the porch. The man got out of the Cadillac, smiled at him. “Mr. Tweedy? My name’s Hoskins. I represent––” “I know who you are,” said Hughie. “If you come to talk about selling, I’m not interested.” The man’s eyes went hard above…
“Earnest, Chams. I’m in love. You gotta see this bird. Gert mint, she is. Beautiful, smart.” “You mean the ugly scutler from the Triangle? The one Geordy called Four-pint Patty on account how many he’d have to down before he’d consider shagging her?” “Not her. This is a new bird. Neighborhood girl from up on…
Jamais vu, never seen an odd impression that you see a common thing you’ve seen a thousand times for the first time the face of a relative, say or the face in the mirror But the mirror doesn’t count, does it? Nobody but you knows what that looks like, backwards, with your best expression frozen…
The lawyer sitting across the table from Floyd had a greasy look. “It appears your brother Errol Barnes, esquire, has left you a hotel, ” he said. “Son, I haven’t spoke to Errol in fifty years. Why in hell would he do that?” He opened his briefcase and took out a stained letter. “This may…
“I am sorry, Father. I hate to disturb Matins, but you have been summoned.” Padre Sebastién had been expecting this for months. He suppressed a grunt as he arose from the prayer bench. He was tired. Perhaps now he could have some rest on the passage back. He smiled at his audacity. He was a…
That you said once over eggs the same bird neither blind nor striking disappointed us all Yet again here I mourn debt’s sorrow: an occupant pressed into proper silence whey veins curled in sheets await the occasion yearned to be pinned by anything at all The Daily Post:…
Janie, hand in hand with Chloe. In my memory, I can’t see their faces because they’re walking away, but I know they’re happy. It’s early June, the morning air fresh with last night’s rain and the miles of fresh farmland in every direction. My girls are so excited they start to skip down the midway.…
“My mother begged that I always remember my caste,” said the boy. “Though we are only Sudra.” “Devansh, there are no castes here. In the cane vineyard, all are made equal by the work they can do, the acres they can harvest. Queen Victoria must have her sugar.” “How came you here, Sidra?” “I came…
Vargas knew she would not stop crying, so he hit her a few more times and closed the bedroom door, leaving her to her tears. He went out to get wood for the stove. The snow howled outside. The stove warmed the cabin to a swelter. Vargas stripped to his undersuit as he drank himself…