Tim Carmichael
Bio
I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. I write about rural life, family, and the places I grew up around. My poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, My latest book. Check it out on Amazon
Achievements (16)
Stories (323)
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The Language of Absence
The stovetop ticked as the burner cooled, a rhythmic, cooling sound that bit into the silence of the kitchen. John didn’t move. He sat at the pine table, his fingers tracing the wood grain, waiting. He watched the steam curl toward the ceiling, a white plume turning grey in the dim morning light. Only when the heat had settled into a low, radiating warmth did his daughter, Mara, enter the room.
By Tim Carmichaela day ago in Fiction
The Meridian at Founders' Ridge
The sign at the entrance was tasteful, navy lettering on cream stock, the font the sort that suggested old money had always been there, like a geological feature. The Meridian at Founders' Ridge: A Curated Community for Patriot Families. Below it, in smaller text: By Appointment or Open House. Today: 1 to 4 PM.
By Tim Carmichael2 days ago in Fiction
The Library of Possible Prefaces
If you have come this far, you have already made a mistake. The library does not let you know you are there. It appears between a tobacconist and a shop that sells umbrellas, in a city whose name I will not give you, because the name of a city is the end of a city, and this city has not yet decided what it is.
By Tim Carmichael3 days ago in Fiction
Medusa's Nest That Never Sleeps
Medusa felt Kestrel wake before she did, a slow tightening near her left temple, the turn of a narrow head testing the dark. She had given that one the kestrel’s name for its hunting patience, for the way it surveyed the middle distance as though the cave wall might suddenly take flight. The tongue began its work at once, sampling the cavern’s stale breath and bringing back its report. Cold stone, mouse droppings tucked behind the eastern wall, the mineral trace of yesterday’s rain.
By Tim Carmichael4 days ago in Fiction
The Persistence of Elpis
Everything disastrous in that household had been Epimetheus's idea, and Myrto had worked for the family long enough to know that when the master of the house said something like it's perfectly safe, just don't open it, the correct response was to begin mentally cataloguing which of your personal belongings could be easily replaced.
By Tim Carmichael5 days ago in Fiction
