Nina Yaney

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2024

Stories (4)

4 Stories

76 karma pts

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“The Eye” by Nina Yaney

Submitted to Contest #239

It was a very strange gift. In ordinary months, quite a few mugs exchange hands, due to sentimentalism, favors, or both. The sculpture standing in front of her was neither; it seemed quite excessive; and what was worse, expensive.“Thanks! This is amazing. are you sure though? Like, sure, sure?” Ella said moving her head towards Alma but keeping the eyes locked in the bizarre object.“Yes, please take it, to guard you in your studio,” Alma answered looking directly at her with her eyes dark under her thic...

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“The Shrub” by Nina Yaney

Submitted to Contest #238

Loneliness is my favorite thing about the shrub-steppe. From here, I can see the soft hills undulating until the vegetation turns into a fuzzy edge. Somewhere in the distance the shrubs turn green and grow taller. The massive white volcano dominates the horizon, standing uncontested. And as my mind inevitably completes the object; I can’t help but wonder why do I believe the other half exists. Today I can see only half, tomorrow its existence must be displayed again. As I turn my head I feel the buzz that reminds me why people hate camping i...

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“Do you like coffee?” by Nina Yaney

Submitted to Contest #237

“Do you like coffee?” He asked, handing me a mug.“Coffee? Coffee, coffee…” I repeated in confusion.“It’s okay if you don’t remember… I didn’t remember for a couple of weeks either. You come from the early 2,000s and data says that they liked coffee.” He said while averting his gaze. The white mug was filled with a brown-hot liquid. I peered down and the hot steam smelled bitter, discomforting yet vaguely familiar. “I don’t think I like-” I felt an odd sensation, like a memory pushing up “-I don’t think I liked coffee. Are you ...

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“Colonialcore ” by Nina Yaney

Submitted to Contest #236

He looked up and the sky was full of rats. It is such a trope: the old city, the ancient pigeon shit. A whole park dedicated to the avian rodents. Every road seemed a maquette; every wall peeling in colonial core. It would be a cliché asking if it has always been like this, but the longer he stare the more he internalized how enduring status quo was. He walked to the a double black door standing proudly against the radioactive yellow wall. His gaze locked on the metal bars that cross and covers the wood windows on both door...

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Author bio

Transplant from a hot island of moss, ferns and sand, to cold peninsula of moss, ferns and sand.