http://slow.writerscafe.org/mccarthy_joel The original writings of author Joel McCarthy en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775991191 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Fiction http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/1081032/ A story from my French-Canadian grandfather (Papa) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/747939/ A first draft of a pretty long short story. If you bother finishing it, I'm open to what you think works, and more importantly, what doesn't. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/712482/ There was a certain way I’d walk her home, and even though it took me over an hour from my door to her door and back to mine again, I never minded it. There were landmarks, not that I’d ever get lost, but they helped. They gave us piece of mind I think. We’d know what to expect, an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/686626/ Fiction http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/677344/ The night the dog bit her, the coyotes rambled inthe distant dark beyond the garage where Jed took the dog. He locked the doorbehind him. His wife immediately drove their daughter to the emergency room andJed stayed. The dog no longer had a name. Molly had once called him Squire.&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/617608/ Her bare, callused heal left a circular imprint inthe otherwise untouched dust covering the dashboard. Her toenails were painted satinblack and dotted with opposing whites in a seemingly random pattern, though heknew she’d spent over an hour plotting each one and its precise loca.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/614678/ The afternoon was slowly drawing out in the salon. Joanna sat near the staff door, slumped over with her neck hanging lazily off the back of the chair, mildly hearing the continuous mix of top fourty playing from a radio in the ceiling. Every time a plane flew over the area, the frequency would try .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/607678/ The venue was dark and humid and I could already smell the dank freshness of the thick cotton sweaters and black T-shirts that decorated almost every attendee. The rain from early that afternoon had tapered some, but still fell outside, wetting those standing in the sprawling line that wrapped aroun.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/602277/ “This is how you catch fish.”            “Iwant to catch a big fish,” I remember saying.             “Justshut up. You start with small fish like I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/601745/           My son once told me that he was afraid he would one day forget his Mother. She had been dead two years. He told me this a week before his ninth birthday at dinner right in front of his sister Annabel, who upon hearing this dropped her egg r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/574666/ I saw patterns flashacross the inside of my eyelids as the sound of my pager ripped through a deepsleep. I called the number and Anthony told me to make my way down to thecampus for an emergency.             I slipped into whatev.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/561450/        Thecar pulled into the almost empty parking lot just as the sun had set.  Ken shut of the engine but left the radioplaying.            “These guys are amazing,” he said tono one in partic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mccarthy_joel/551687/