Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

Story: Stuck in the Storm

By: SA Libby The rain has been falling for days. So long his weary eyes can’t remember exactly where the roads lay under all those feet of muddy water. Planks of wood and shingles surf along the surface. Clothes and…

Story: Blind Men of Broadway

By: Arthur Davis “My shoes are wet.” “You walk through a puddle and you expect them to be dry?” “I expect no more from you,” Abe said lowering himself onto the bench they resided on from noon to three every…

Story: What colour is it?

By: Tulika Bahuguna “How do you always wear it? Oh darling, whenever I see you I’m filled with pity!” She smiled at her old colleague. It was not new. It had become a part of her daily existence; people looking…

Story: “Rising to the Occasion”

By Austin Manchester While some journalists were overseas covering terrorists and revolutions, Clark Donovan was writing a story that people would only read while taking a shit or drinking their coffee. His editor demanded a story by that night about…

Story: House Life

By: Michael C. Keith Haunted for ever by the eternal . –– William Wordsworth The house at 31 Hoover Street came into existence in the midst of the Great Depression. A Craftsman bungalow, it was constructed by L.V. Myerson Builders…

Story: The Fall

By: Gaither Stewart (An unconscious reference to Albert Camus’ La Chute)   At first it had seemed that all of Ferdinando’s problems began when he tore the meniscuses in both knees when he jumped—he subsequently claimed—from a one-meter high stone…

Story: The Man Who Never Was

By: G. D. McFetridge The first day I took a long walk through town, the backdrop brought forth two clear impressions, one of which was destined to last over time while the other was constantly changing. Every day thereafter, I perceived…

Story: Double Trouble

By: Prachi Sharma How the hell do I take out that bitch Marilyn, Nick pondered, as he slumped on the giant bed in his opulent suite in Waldorf-Astoria, New York City. The AC was on full blast, yet his expensive…

Story: The Pillow

By: Adreyo Sen When the little girl was very little, her dearest possession was her pillow, a soft, shapeless thing of blue cotton. To her, its smell was the most beautiful thing in the world. The little girl carried her pillow…

Story: Levels

By: Gaither Stewart   1. I find it curious that with the passage of time many former places of worship of various religions—cathedrals and temples, synagogues and mosques, or the pyramids in the jungles and deserts—change their nature and morph…