Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

The Way She Was – A Story

By Pamela J Picard The party expanded in size, growing, as if resting on a bubble, bigger and bigger with every breath. Just when the room seemed to be brimming beyond capacity, the door smashed open, giving the human gaggle…

Why Hast Ye Forsaken Me?

By Dakota Zambito   “Alright now, class. Everyone please direct your attention to the monitor.” David looked up at the monitor to see a live-cam image of a green and blue ball being warped by smoky clouds. “Can anyone tell…

Sweet Wood

By: Mehreen Ahmed Late afternoon drizzles blighted the lights. Layered clouds, hung over in translucent folds. Dusky shadows fell upon a gully’s end. Next to this, a cinnamon farm lay stretched to the horizon. Tia Magnolia stood on this farm,…

The Lucky Bastard

By: Alan Berger How the fuck did I get the nickname “Lucky”, lucky asked the mirror before him while attempting to hold his razor steady as he started to shave. Maybe it’s like when they call a bald guy “Curly”,…

A 2016 Carol

By: Austin J. Dalton “Frankly, it’s quite possible I could get used to you, because one day I will grow old enough or come to some point down the road and there won’t be anyone there but you.” The author…

Story: Falling Stars

By Emon NC Shimmering amidst the pitch black velvet of the night, were a million diamonds of neon dreams. They created a fervent silvery shiver that danced in unison to the rhythm of it’s own creation. The sky above pales…

Story: Survivors

By: Michal Reibenbach Climbing up the wall of my house are two Bougainvillea bushes, they partially creep over my bedroom’s window. The bushes are a joy to me. Their branches which turn in random ways are decorated with glossy, dark…

Story: Cups of Tea

By: Michal Reibenbach After I married I went to live with my husband and daughter in an old broken down cottage way out in the country in a small village in Yorkshire. Things in our old cottage were forever falling…

Story: My Bologna

By: Katharine Strange Sometimes I turn over in bed, eyes shut tightly against the morning light, and for a moment think I am still in New Jersey. I can almost smell the cat pee and Hamburger Helper. Then I’ll hear…

Turning of the tide

By: K.S.Subramanian Sakundan never harbored many expectations ever since he came to know himself. He even had a philosophical alibi for it. However one tries to know or discover himself he always hasn’t known or unearthed an area of his…