Literary Yard

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Fiction

Raiment 

By: Brian Michael Barbeito  I lost my sweater. It was because I was helping people, some old folks who couldn’t carry their luggage. I couldn’t ‘not,’ help, seeing them struggling like that. I think I had put the sweater down…

Red Dirt

By: Domonique I awakened in the Bush after riding back with Romey after the footy.      With some English holiday giving us the day off school, Romey and his cousin, Credence, took me with them turtle hunting. I had only…

Tabby Cat

By: Andrew C. Miller I’m in a maple tree, claws dug in, staring down at Mrs. Cavendish’s fluffy little Shih-Tzu. If I hadn’t been worrying about Mr. Krumholtz, this wouldn’t have happened. It started yesterday morning when he snagged his…

Girls

By: Mariah H. N. Hawkins What they don’t tell you about being a girl is the unwritten expectation that you are somehow more pleasant to be around, or that you act better at least in public. When I tell people…

Cynthia

By: Earl Smith He stood on the upper deck, watching the distance to Key West widen. Could not escape the feeling he was leaving part of her behind. Yet he could feel her standing next to him. An echo of…

Who is Donald Duck’s Girlfriend?

By Robert Feinstein                                                    It was December 17th, 1944, the second day of Germany’s Argonne Offensive … Battle of the Bulge.  A huge force, consisting of some four-hundred and ten thousand Wehrmacht and Waffen SS troops, aided by thousands of…

Alice

By: Karl Miller      The anhinga, its knifelike beak prepared to strike, perched on a low branch, and stared down at the dark water around the mangrove roots beneath it. As dusk enveloped the Everglades, the long greenish-black bird studied…

Perplexity

By: Bruce Levine Jeffrey sat at his computer and wondered what he should do next. He’d caught up on everything that needed catching up on and now it seemed that the only thing to do was take a nap. The…

Tongues in the Mountains

By: Ammanda Selethia Moore The rain and clouds couldn’t dampen our spirits as we gathered to take the short truck ride up to the barrio above Matagalpa. I stood between an elderly white lady with gray hair combed and pinned…