The writings of Lyra O’hara
Transgressive short stories for the modern era.
The Theater
I remember his face well, even if I don’t recall his name. A scrawny boy with black hair and beady eyes, gesturing emphatically as he showed us through his “Operating Theater”. We didn’t call him by his name in there. His name only mattered back at school where he was just another pipsqueak kid; no,…
Predetermined
The Jones’ lived in a house that was not yet a home. Only purchased a year earlier, work was still needed for it to be truly built in their image. Odds and ends left behind from the previous owners; things left untouched, doing nothing but collecting dust, waiting to be destroyed. The largest of these…
Frost
My mother didn’t want to pay alimony. So on New Year’s Eve, while I was in the shower, she stole his phone. The water didn’t drown out the impending argument. I stayed in there for as long as possible. Eventually, I had to admit that this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. I dried off. …
The Mercurian
First, I want to apologize. This message will not be nearly as eloquent or informative as the one you got from Kurt Waldheim. Though there is no way of knowing if you can tell the difference. I don’t know how much of this you will be able to understand. The details are going to be…
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Sinister Ink Smudge 