The short fiction of j hardy carroll
Mother’s mediocrity was so consistently applied that it almost became a kind of excellence. She wasn’t especially bad at anything. Nor was she particularly good. In everything she did, Mother was merely adequate. The many dinners she cooked for us excited no praise, yet were always eaten without complaint. When she gave gifts, they were accepted but rarely used…
The bar at the Craic is busy most Friday evenings, but when Waitangi Day falls on the weekend it borders on insane, twenty-four hours of partying. We haul cases of the extra glassware out from the cellar and triple the liquor order. I’d been working straight up since seven AM and was desperate to have a piss.…
The waiting room was much more grand than it had been five years ago. The mayor seemed to take decorating tips from our show. We’d been waiting forty-five minutes before the secretary reappeared. “I am so sorry,” she said, her smile thin below eyes that did not smile at all. “His excellency has had an…
“What is it supposed to be?” he asked. I could see the disappointment on his face. I felt the old fury rising. My selfish son. I struggled to keep my voice calm. “It’s a bicycle, John.” “It looks weird. The wheels don’t turn. And what’s with the seat?” “It’s a work of art. Your aunt…
“Something wrong with the proto-cakes, Michael?” asked June. “You’ve barely touched them.” “I guess I’m too excited, Mommy.” “Well,” she said, smiling. “Even Uninauts need to eat.” She pressed the button for housekeeping. An electric door snicked open and a slim silver android glided out. “See that Michael finishes his breakfast,” she told the robot. “Compliance,” it…
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…