Literary Yard

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Fiction

A Simple House Call

By: Alan Berger “Did you see that kid throw?” If Packer heard that once, he heard it a million times. One hundred bucks, times a million, he thought in his financial research wheelhouse first rate mind. With that kind of…

Saving a Shark

By Bill Butler When I was 17, my summer job was helping out in a pool hall located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. A shadowy place, it had a dozen brightly lit tables and the fragrance of cigars….

Euphoria

By: Sana Mojdeh I’m waiting on the implantation floor, sunken into a white leather sofa that circles outward in the center of a large, otherwise wide-open room. Everything is white and blindingly bright in here. Whichever direction I turn, horizontally mirrored…

Autumnal Ghosts

By: Vladimir Motchoulski  Edgar slowed his pace as the burial oak crawled into his field of vision from beyond the trail’s end. His son Nathan scurried at his side, riding on a meek ripple of strength that would soon fade away….

Congratulations on Your Graduation

By: Valerie Kinsey Her parents are professors at Brooklyn Law. I forget their names: Shel and Sarah or Saul and Sally. We haven’t said more than five words to each other, but I’ve watched their girl, Juliet, grow from a…

Vanilla Bob in Duluth

By: Robert E. Remillard   Introduction I’ll introduce myself, (cuz no one else will). I’m the person everyone almost remembers. I lack drama and charisma. I am, seemingly not very memorable, hence the nom de plume, Vanilla Bob. I write somewhat…

Bullet for the blessed

By Eric Burbridge All hell broke loose and a bullet ricocheted off the side of the corner building and hit Milton’s leg. It stung, but that didn’t slow his power scooter. At his age he could kick himself for going…

Waiting

By: Keith Manos The window was open just enough to let in the cool night air. The crisp rush of air held Kevin there by the glass, cooling his warm skin and enabling him to study his shadowy reflection. He wondered…

Dùn Èideann

By: Christian Bot Paper. Pen – or pencil, depending on what my tastes of the day dictate. A desk – amiably provided in the hotel room, middlebrow as it is. Now all that remains to be supplied is imagination –…