The short fiction of j hardy carroll
“Hello?” “Sorry to wake you.” “Joey?” “Listen. I need you to get over here. It’s Pop.” I sat up. “I had a dream about him!” “Yeah, well. This ain’t a dream. I need you to come to the house right away.” “What happened? Is he okay?” “I––I can’t tell. He’s sitting in the kitchen. He’s…
She looks so pretty, but the martinis are a bad idea. She hasn’t eaten all day and is already halfway through the second one before the waiter comes by for our order. She’s in her ebullient stage, laughing out a story I’ve heard before. I laugh along, watching for the change. I know it’s coming.…
A piece of Flash Fiction for Armistice Day, 11/11/1918. This was supposed to be the end of war, but if was really the start of a much worse type of war.
The wife of Ambassador Kubisch led her guests into the foyer while the maid retrieved their coats. “I’m so glad you and the children could come tonight,” she told Mrs. Welch. “It doesn’t quite seem like Christmas without children.” Mrs. Welch gave an uneasy smile, pulled her daughter closer to her side. “Thanks for having…
“We hired you because of your vision, James,” said the senior partner. “We gave you an opportunity here. You knew the importance of this project to the firm.” “And this is what you bring us,” said the junior partner. “This…I don’t know what to call it.” The drawing lay unrolled on the conference table between…
Marisol carefully washed herself in the basin. She used the perfumed soap Olán had given her for her birthday. The lavender scent was strong, but did little to mask the odor of the businessman’s cologne that seemed to hang about her room. She went to the dresser and counted the money for a third time.…
They said it was the law that turned him out of the house. They lied, saying he could have stayed if it was up to them. They didn’t exactly blame him for her death. They just didn’t want him around as a reminder of her decline. He blamed himself, of course. For a while he…
It’s a small town, so by and by it got back to her. She didn’t get mad. That wasn’t her way. Instead she bided her time, innocent as a yellow chick shaking off eggshells. She had this way of asking without asking, sort of letting whoever she was talking to just say what came to…
“Triangles is set up, Sire.” “Very good, Ben,” said the Colonel-General. He’d been wise to bring this boong with him, the most reliable of the lot. “You know, we’re expecting a new crop of convicts. The Sirius should be arriving any day now.” Ben stared at the floor. “Yes, Sire.” “And do you know why…
“Like a drink?” Without waiting for me to answer she handed me a beading glass. I took a sip. “The good stuff. And in the wedding glassware, no less.” “I thought you deserved something special after the day you had.” She gentled the back of my neck like I was a skittish horse. “My man.”…