The short fiction of j hardy carroll
The Subadar sat cross-legged on the floor of the dugout. The Germans had spent twenty-three of the last twenty-four hours lobbing shells at our trenches, and the sudden cessation made Captain Floyd nervous enough to send a scouting party into no man’s land to see what was up. The rest of us waited. I was…
Sewing shirtwaists nine hours a day, Monday through Saturday for seven dollars a week. There was more than five hundred of us on the ninth floor. Bosses told us we was lucky to have jobs at all, bunch of dumb Dagoes who couldn’t speak no English, and women to boot. That Saturday afternoon, one of the foremen was careless with his cigarette. The…
“It’s not fair. You just did what they asked you.” She holds my hand in both of hers. “Why are you the only one being punished?” “I was the only one who got caught.” Her eyes brim. “The sacrificial lamb.” “It’s only for two years. Maybe less. You know how overloaded the justice system is.” “It’s prison, Wade.…
The sea knew his secret. He had that night turned his back on God forever, given his life to the Devil. It was God who bade Gustavo to slide the body of his brother over the side, to pray for his salvation and commit him to the deep. Gustavo had tried to obey, had recited…
I’d looked forward to the outdoor yoga class in the park through the entire winter, so I didn’t feel bad about taking the second donut, saying “why not?” to the dessert tray. I was at my heaviest weight, but kept myself from usual despondency by visualizing a midsummer me, lithe and fit from yoga classes and sensible…
A bunch of us came out. Heck, practically the whole town. We didn’t have no particular business there. Just something to do. Sheriff’s men were there, along with some state troopers. They had got the whole marsh cordoned off with that crime scene tape you see on TV. By the time we got there, they…
Max always came in around three, a folded New York Times in his pocket. I’d have his drink ready before he sat down at the bar. Max dressed like a college professor, tweed jacket and sweater vest. He always sat on the same stool. Midway through his second drink he’d ask for the dictionary. We’d spend the afternoon working together through the crossword puzzle.…
Raymie was with me until he saw a run-boat set adrift in the crest, jumped out and fetched it in. He offered me a spot, but I trusted him less than the cops who told me to evacuate. He took most of my water and all of my food, piled it into that boat until it was almost under. I couldn’t…
Perhaps it was the long despair of seasickness that kept him to his bunk as the Carpathia opened New York Harbor. Perhaps it was fear. He never spoke of it, the long nights of silently crying into his blanket as remorse overtook him, the longer days when he could not sleep and was left to wander the vast, anonymous…
Aitor shook his stick at the BMW crawling its way up the steep road to Bayonne. “Fucking Germans,” he spat. “In a hurry to get to their hotel, no doubt. Probably called ahead to have whores waiting for them.” “Daddy!” said Eguzkiñe, pretending to be shocked. “It’s true, darling girl. All Germans are horny as goats. That’s why we…