Literary Yard

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Fiction

Story: Jitterbug

By: William T. Hathaway My grandma forgets things. She’s got old-timers and mixes stuff up. She’s a sweet old gal but starting to lose it upstairs. She’s living with my parents now that she can’t take care of herself so…

Story: Mascot

By: Michael C. Keith If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man. –– Mark Twain Something moved in the grass ahead…

Story: The Black Ticket

By: Raja Jaiswal The crowd around box office was getting noisier, movie had created a good charm over them, the yearning faces of the people had already declared the movie super hit. I stepped down with its three tickets in…

Story: Rally Ground

By: Obinna Ozoigbo A capacity crowd has gathered on my father’s acreage, under the luminous Kano skies. The people have come from far and near to cheer my father. They carry placards and banners high in the air, cardboard sheets…

Story: Uncle Ken

By: Ruth Z Deming Africa is shaped like a voluptuous woman. And Uganda, beautiful Uganda, Uncle Ken told his niece Heather, is almost smack dab in the middle. He was a missionary in a scrappy little town called Busega, overflowing with…

Story: The Twist in the Tale

By: Sri Ram I was sure he was going to pull the trigger. The tubular mouth of the semi-automatic pistol, was now pointing to the center of my chest. Chances were ample that, in a few seconds, it may spit…

Story: Sibling Solace

By: William T. Hathaway When my wife and I were first married, not so very long ago, we slept in a queen-sized bed. It was our cocoon from the world, where we snuggled and dreamed together. After a while she…

Story: Afterlife

By: Emon NC. It meandered diagonally across the surface of the glass, from the top right corner, to the left corner below. Neharika thought it was a stain, caused by the water leakage on the roof above. But a closer…

Story: High School Romance

By: Raja Jaiswal I paced upstairs, the exhausted strokes of legs desperate to throw me to the third floor, where I reside. I wiped down my forehead a stream of sweat, so tired, I was like wanting to throw away…

Story: Befriending Bhangarh

By: Natalia Suri  In the Dausa haveli of Thakur Umaid Singh, that morning in June was chaotic. The servants ran through the long passages, carrying rice bags, milk cans and flower baskets. Some were busy decorating the main hall. They hung…