Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

By: Anita Lekic I enter the small jewelry shop in our little town.  There are two or three people ahead of me, hunched over the glass counters, perusing the gold pendants and rings and other assorted jewelry on display.  The…

Fiction

By: Adam Kluger It’s weird. The business of meeting a muse.  The artist known as Dreck didn’t expect much when he started an online correspondence with a mystery woman named Cricket who posted no photographs online. It was intriguing to…

Fiction

By: Michal Reiben Nia ushers the reporter into her sitting room. “Please sit down, make yourself comfortable.” “Thank you.” He drags a wicker chair towards the table and perches himself on its edge, places his tape recorder on the glass…

Fiction

By: Peter Nemenoff He had a nervous demeanor.             Elijah sat in a café, a full latte in front of him. He occasionally picked it up, and blew on it, even after it had cooled down, but would ultimately put…

Fiction

By: The Birch Twins “Where did you get that,” asked Skarr, her face a mixture of anger and surprise.” If regular readers will recall, I had just returned, barely with my life intact, from an encounter with a hibernating beast…

Fiction

By: Padmini Krishnan I felt that something was not quite right as I boarded DSL-231. Vimmi seemed relaxed and her eyes shone with excitement. We were going home to Sheila. I opened my laptop as soon as we settled down….

Essay

by Frank Kowal      It was 1954, and I was six years old, watching TV by myself on the floor of my living room. In those days the TVs were black-and-white and were housed in large cabinets.      Suddenly a…

Poetry

By: Dwit David Philip  IYour conservative ethosis a way livingyour pretensionIs a volcano camouflagelike a value system. IIAn instinct paraphraselate night sleepuninterpreted eyesopen on a knockrepents the tired sin. IIIHer first blink, grabbed in thebracket of the beautyVanished in an…

Fiction

By: L.W. Smolen Heck hit the street on their 30th Wedding Anniversary critical-mass disgusted – and not just with Seattle. He headed out his hotel front door onto Western Avenue, passed-up Eno’s – skipped his breakfast – his wine flip…

Fiction

By: Bruce Levine Phillip closed the book. He’d been reading for a couple of hours and his eyes were tired. Friday would be a good night, he thought as he rubbed his eyes. He knew he should have been working,…