The short fiction of j hardy carroll
I passed the stunning Saint Basil’s Cathedral in Red Square without seeing it. A quote from Anna Karenina rolled through my mind, where Levin avoids “any long look at her as one avoids long looks at the sun, but seeing her as one sees the sun, without looking.” I was like that with Red Square. With all of…
I tried to make sense of his note, but it was just gibberish. He had taken them books with him, so I knew he wasn’t going off to kill himself. When I checked with the bank, they said he’d cleaned out his college fund on Friday. That bothered me, but not for the reasons you’d think. There…
The Punjab sun lay across Lieutenant Maclean’s back like a heavy wool blanket. He ignored it as he climbed the steep stairs of the citadel. Beside him, Sergeant Ross puffed like a dray horse. They passed through the high arches and strode through the shade of the now-deserted fort. “Bloody hell, sir,” said Ross. “It’s a good thing we beat Maharaja Singh on the plains.…
Thomas. Aye, Thomas, never Tommy or Tom. Thomas would take insult from anything. A raised eyebrow, a sloshed pint that wet his sleeve, an ill-timed cough. Once he started to fight, there was naught anyone could do. Thomas would not stop, no matter how many times he was knocked down, and that was many. Though wiry, he was…
Countless disappointments had battered me down until I’d pretty much given up. Surrendered. I stood in my empty apartment and cried out to a God I didn’t believe in I give up! And like magic, the despair and loneliness were lifted from me. I felt as though I’d set down a heavy suitcase. No longer was…