By: Reese Scott The first time I was pregnant I didn’t know until I was almost ten weeks in. The second time I was pregnant I didn’t know until I was 12 weeks pregnant. I can hear the chorus now:…

By: Reese Scott On Sundays he went to church. He sat in the back and listened to the people around him. Never paying any attention to the sermon. In fact he was going to church for one reason only. To…

By: Mohammad Jashim Uddin Immortal! Who cares the death? Have I been afraid ever The death sentence of you? You want me to make a slave. Who told you, me independent? Slave! Me the slave of Truth forever. Should I…

The 2014 Nobel Prize for Literature goes to Patrick Modiano, a French Writer who is best known for his novels about memory and identity. Patrick has once again proved that French rule when it comes to literature. He is 11th…

By: Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Ahmad rushed toward the newspaper office, trying to avoid the stinging, dust-filled wind that seemed getting stronger with every step. It was a brief walk from the parking lot. By the time he reached the office,…

By: Christopher Wong Her heart, Like the sun, Pulses with light. Her blond hair, Flows so smoothly, Like the sun’s golden rays. Her embraces, Warm sad days, Like the sun after the rain. Whenever she cuddles Right beside me, It’s…

By: Runaaz A Sharma  Heart pounding, mind numbing Fidgeting fingers, skimming through tome Eyes darting, ears perking On every able drone Ready! Silence descends All ascend Perching in nest Devoid of pandemonium Prayers are murmured Papers are shuffled Apprehension drowning my…

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Literary Yard has got the following announcement from the Commonwealth Writers regarding a short story competition. If it interests you, please mind the guidelines and deadline: Writers have until 15 November 2014 to enter their short…

By: JD DeHart The lawn used to look bigger, and the tree over the hill was miles away I was going to grow up and marry a famous actress and have famous little babies with faces much nicer than mine…

By: JD DeHart I suppose there is some object in space or some floating personality which governs us always and constantly so that we organize ourselves first by the concept of mother, father, brother then we begin to feel stirrings…