Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

By: Kaitlin Packer I woke with my pajamas wet against my shoulder blades and my hair soaked through at the base of my neck. Jumping out of bed, I opened my computer and squinted at the email that came through…

Fiction

By: Guy Preston My friend Arthur bought a dog. In the beginning, things went well with his dog: they would spend time together and, over time, Arthur grew fond of his dog. They would go to the beach together and…

Fiction

By Ryan Collins             The Spring when Danny and Sarah decided to start a family was the same Spring the earth stalled and the seasons never changed again. No one realized this at first, of course. The winter was gray…

Fiction

By: Sterling Warner “Did it happen again?” “Uh-huh! This time my heart beat faster, Gil, and I could swear I heard high pitched voices speaking in some foreign language, ordering me to do something.” “Sit down, Smithy, and hold my…

Poetry

By Mark Kodama We were bound and broken,Surrounded by enemies.All hope seemed lost.When from the darknessA lone rider emerged,A knight in shining armor,A hero to save the people.Why can’t that be you?

Fiction

By: Erik Barca “Marcus, please stay the week. Dad needs you.” “He doesn’t want me around.  I’ll need to rearrange my work. I can only stay through Wednesday, maybe.” “But I can’t take care of him until Saturday …  Yes,…

Fiction

By: James Bates “I wish you could swim,” Camden told Megan. “Like the dolphins.”             They were downtown, sitting outside having just finished lunch at a favorite cafe. She sent off a final text to her mother, set the phone…

Fiction

By: Peter Astle “You can’t be serious,” Jane said. “You’ll be thrown in jail.”             Paul shrugged. “We might as well be in jail. Besides, this is important. It’s just one night.”             “It’s martial law,” Jane reminded him. “Public…

Fiction

By Mark Kodama I.      He never did anything. He did not work; he did not help around the house. He just sat around, collecting his pension. She did all the work. She worked full time as a secretary. When…

Poetry

By: Nancy Diamante Bonazzoli Skin-Touch of Love Ferocious night. We left him there;his inhalator gone silentas his heartbeat. We slam the car doors,surrender to grief. You turn the key.Windshield wipers echohis ghost-dance rhythms. Defroster on the fritz,our exhalations fog,dripping sheen….