The short fiction of j hardy carroll
We squinted in the bright sunshine. The morning had been cold enough to warrant light jackets, but even with the sea breeze it was warming up nicely. I felt Olivia’s hand, warm and small in my own. Our first Christmas without Mommy. Grandee had paid for the airline tickets to California, just the two of us.…
I waited for Sunday to roll over me, crash its waves into my chest and tumble me to the shore. A hard laugh catches in my throat, comes out as a mangled rattle. I forget what was funny, what I was even thinking. I walk to the window. The Korean neighbor pulls out of his driveway. He takes the corner too…
I suppose I knew about it for some weeks before I saw what I saw. At first I wasn’t sure. See something like that, you don’t want to believe it, though it’s right in front of your eyes. Then all the pieces fall together in your head, like the tumblers in a safe when you…
You ever stop to think that your whole life might hang on a decision you don’t actually decide? That your fate, everything that will happen to you from this point forward, hangs from a thread no thicker than a spider’s web? Of course you don’t. Nobody does. You go through you day on automatic pilot,…
The old man was as greedy with his bottle as he was lazy with his seniority. Still, he was company. And such stories! Geoffrey took his own bottle from his pocket, raised it. “Cheers.” “Bumpers,” said the old man. He drained his pint in a long swallow, holding the empty bottle at length to be sure…
Andrade remembered almost nothing of his father. A small man, like Andrade himself, quick-tempered, silent. He was never home during the day. Other tradesmen might get rained out, but Andrade’s father was a master stonemason and worked indoors. He would leave the tenement before dawn and return long after the children were asleep. Sundays he spent in…
You want so badly for it to be different this time. It will be different, you keep saying. Different different different. Like a mantra. For one thing, it will be morning. For another, you’re older now. The longest journey begins with a single step. You saw that once, on a poster at school. Or maybe it was drops of…
“Ruth! Will you shut that damn dog up? I’m trying to take a nap.” Ruth wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron. Paul was always crabby on Sundays before dinner, especially if Pastor Bean’s sermon hit home as well as today’s. Paul really did drink too much sometimes. “Sorry, Paul.” She looked out the window to see…
By the time he turned eighty-five, the old man was done with marking the day and would have none of it. His granddaughter called herself a “party person” and tried to organize some kind of surprise celebration in spite of his wishes. When he got wind of it, he called the local paper and told them he had died, disguising his voice on the…
Aunt Anne had spent the prize money many times over before she even entered the contest. Mother was worried about her. “She’s always been like this,” Mother said over breakfast. “The cart before the horse.” “Hmm hmm,” said father. He had his face in the paper, clearly not listening. Dottie knitted her brows. “What’s that…