The short fiction of j hardy carroll
“IF I TRY TO FIND some useful phrase to sum up the time of my childhood and youth before the First World War, I hope I can put it most succinctly by calling it the Golden Age of Security.”
― Stefan Zweig, The World of Yesterday: Memoirs of a European
My wife brought in the stack of Christmas cards to sign. I shook my head. “It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.” She smiled. “I like to get a jump on things.” I almost said probably addressed them in January, but I caught myself in time. I thanked her and went to my study. I opened the first…
Poke leaned hard in the saddle. I could see his face was chalk-white underneath the beard and sunburn. “You don’t look so good, pard,” I said. “Don’t feel so good, neither. That goddamn bitch with the scattergun.” “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. You had plenty of time to shoot her.” Poke looked annoyed,…
“Am I waking you up?” “I had to get up anyway, Dad. The phone was ringing.” “Ha. Listen, I need you to do something for me.” “Name it.” “I need you to come over and shovel the walk.” “Now?” “Yes, now. Before your mother wakes up.” “It’s four in the morning.” “I know what time…
Clive had made a little clubhouse in the attic from various chairs and lamps. We would sometimes play at marriage. We lay on the floor. I looked over at him. He was a handsome boy, in the English way. Blue eyes and creamy skin. I rolled over and kissed his pink lips. He flew into…
Love in Terni, Italy
Enrique was appalled when he saw his cousin’s pack. He walked around it, whistling. “What do you have in here, Hectór? Furniture?” The boy shrugged, or tried to against the weight of the straps. “You know we’re walking, right?” “Not all the way, Rico.” “The boat takes us only to Salina Cruz. After that, the…
The Americans seemed bored. “I will tell a story,” said Magnus, smiling across the fire. “In this village there once lived two brothers, each jealous of one another. The younger made a bargain with the devil. In exchange for his soul, Satan gave him a mill that would grind anything he desired. Satan showed him…
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…