The short fiction of j hardy carroll
May 24th After thirty-six hours on deck, I set the drag anchor and turned in below. Worst mistake of my life. The storm drove me onto something in the dark, an uncharted reef or maybe a shipwreck. Whatever it was, it tore a three-foot gash in the starboard hull. I set the pump working and…
Mrs. Stouffer fussed around the dessert table with shakers of Christmas glitter-candy, liberally dusting everything in sight with red and green sparkles–– a chafing dish of cheese blintzes, an apple tart, Mrs. Glück’s “famous” chocolate torte. Finally, the glitter ran out. “Thank God,” muttered Mrs. Dogsbill. “That table looks like a kindergarten art room.” “She…
The old smuggler hoisted the xahako and arced a hissing stream of wine from the goatskin into his open mouth without a wasted drop. Whether this was a display of skill or frugality was hard to say; he was said to have ample amounts of both qualities. He wiped his beard with his hand and smiled. “You,…
I swore as I walked in that this would be the last time. I’d sworn this before, of course. Last year. But it had not been the last time, nor even close. But last year we were still getting away with it. Neither his wife nor my husband had any idea. Well, maybe an idea,…
That shop? Well, now. I tell you a story. Chinleyuego Aboagyem was born without eyes. A curse to his parents, though they loved him. The young boy perfectly remembered everything he heard. By the age of five, he could speak as well as any adult in English, Akan, Dagaare, Twe, and Ewe. After a single hearing…
Thursday Poem
He was thin, the black coat so stiff it might have been snipped from tin. Wiry like her uncles, but with bright bird eyes. He stood staring at the clocks, always coming back to her favorite, the one with all the faces and figures. “How long you say it took to carve?” the man asked…
“Lau Lum,” Mrs. Gia greeted me. Long time. She smiled and set a dish of banh cuon on the counter, my favorite lunch in the old days. I laughed. “How did you know?” “People don’t change much,” she said in her excellent English. It felt like it was only yesterday when I’d come to say goodbye,…
Wednesday, July 5th 1944 The kids were out windows shimmied down drainspouts hurled down alleyways since today was the day the circus train rolled into town. No music played – war trains caused delays but no war talk today, boys. No time because look at that we’re late. Late is unlucky and it’s all good…
By the middle of our second year it was down to us and two other teams. Five continents, sixty-odd cities and countless towns, villages, hamlets and burgs. Every step another piece in the puzzle, every discovery a link in the chain. The journey changed us. Who we thought we were. It’s hard to explain. When…