I’m taking a master class on short story writing. Here’s a new little ditty. Short and well, not sweet, just short.
I was searching through some documents this morning and found this little story that I wrote back in May of 2015. We were living at our house down south, part of the time–then. The neighbors inspired me to write this story. I had a good laugh this morning when I read it.
Do you remember? A short little something on an August day. Click here.
Someone planted the seeds.
Before that, plowed the field to plant the seeds
Before that, bought the tractor, to plow the field, to plant the seeds,
Before that, acquired the land, bought the tractor, to plow the field, to plant the seeds
Before that, studied farming, acquired the land, bought the tractor, to plow the field, to plant the seeds
~ ~ ~
Somewhere the wind is blowing on a field made ready for the planting of oats
As she eats a bowl of oatmeal, drizzled with honey
That came from a box
Shipped from a factory
Processed by a mill
And before that someone planted the seeds.
~ ~ ~
She eats as she browses the web
Without thought or gratitude
For the planting of the seeds
That she is me.
© Glenda Kotchish
July 1, 2019
Find a home
Pay the money
Sign the paperwork
Pack the boxes
Connect the utilities
Call the movers
Clean the old place
Turn in the keys
Last Night. Click here.
I have a draft of a story I’ve been working on for a while. The Pamunkey river flows into it.
“Language is more than words,” my great grandmother told me. She held a little book on her lap, leather bound, tied up with string–very old. She patted it and smiled and rocked forward in her chair, an old porch rocker.
A short story. It’s not Christmas bells ringing. Click to read.
Depends on how you want to start or end your day.
I finished the story Pumpkin Treasures, but was busy handing out candy to the stream of munchkins at our door. Halloween is big in a small town! So here’s the story. I hope you enjoy it.