The short fiction of j hardy carroll
“The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.” He paused, staring out at the lecture hall through thick lenses, hands clasped behind his back. In his pinstripe cutaway and bow tie he resembled a vulture, the effect highlighted by gleam of the hall lights on his bald skull. “Anyone care to guess?” A tense…
Suffolk had set his trap. Now it was time to spring it. “Lord Cardinal, your recent actions have done what you wished them to do. You have attracted His Majesty’s attention. Only,” and here he smiled, “it may not be the sort you had imagined.” Wolsey, stiff and impenetrable, buried in his velvet, sat with a face of…
Marriage must fight constantly against a monster which devours everything: routine. ― Honoré de Balzac “Look! That couple from the hotel.” I followed her gaze. We’d seen them almost daily since we’d been in France. We guessed they were perhaps on a second honeymoon. “They don’t look happy,” I said. “No, they don’t,” she said,…
“Delphine always wanted to pilot her father’s plane and when he forgot his keys on her tenth birthday, she knew that taking off would be easy.” Agnes smiled as she read, the notebook trembling slightly in her slim hands. “Another Delphine story? I thought you’d moved on.” I sipped my tea, grown cold in its cup.…
“My land! Such a heat!” His mother fanned her face with the map. “You’re the one who wanted to see the goddamned thing.” Heat made his father irritable, as did long car trips. “You’re getting sweat on the map.” “Language,” she said, eyes darting toward the back seat. “Little pitchers, Howard.” Howard glanced at Howie in the back…
You ever listen to an echo of your own voice? It’s you, a few seconds ago. Your breath, your vocal chords, your thought behind it. Not like a recording, since it’s gone almost as soon as you hear it. Your imprint, a shadow self. It started when I heard my echo in the pedestrian tunnel.…
One Shot Reblogged from 101words.org July 7, 2015 Leave a Comment 00Share Fulmar sighted along his rifle for what seemed a long time. He lowered it, shaking his head. “I can’t tell. Might be German. Might be American. I just can’t tell.” The lieutenant wiped his face. Command decision time. “You think you can hit…
The Mayor and the town manager waved as their next victim approached. It was old Elke Svørtsenbørg, and she had her teeth in. She munched on their improbable whiteness while she made her way to the cake table. The Mayor smiled his best. “Our next victim,” he said in the unctuous tones familiar to all who…
Stranger Danger was all he could remember. What was the rest of it? It was like some kind of secret code, something about when it was okay to ask a stranger for help. He wasn’t about to start crying again like some little kid. He would be brave this time. He stood on a bench,…
He seemed sad. He gazed through the limousine window as we wended through the impossibly green countryside. “You know, baby,” he said, his voice so soft I almost couldn’t hear it. “When I lived in London, my mind was always blown by this thing and that thing. One time I saw this cat in Kensington…