A new ending to my story, Summer Evening Concert came to me. Take a look.
It’s August, it’s hot, humid and the mosquitoes are feasting. Here’s a new short story.
first the sunlight
across his face
while he sleeps.
and finally moves
as the bright rays
drive him from his resting place.
perhaps a hour
the light shifts
only shadows rest
upon the walls.
Time to go
to work now.
have the watching
(C) Glenda Kotchish
July 3, 2018
Paging through my stories I found a fairy tale: A Place With No Name. I made a few edits and submitted in a contest for Science Fiction and Fantasy. Here’s the first paragraph. Wish me luck!
Once upon a time…oh what a time it was, far away from here and ages upon ages ago, there was a place that had no name. It was so long ago that mountains were three times as tall as they are today having not been worn down by the ravages of time. And rivers, scores of them, rushed through valleys, poured down crevices and disappeared in underground caverns so large that whales traversed these subterranes with ease and used them as birthing places.
© Glenda Kotchish
June 17, 2018
© Glenda Kotchish
June 16, 2018
My friends and I have been discussing the magnificent mind of the human. Our brains are exceptional because we can, unlike most animals, see into the future–invent various scenarios and outcomes for any given even. We can look into the future and we can plan.
We think, forecast and bring into reality the very ideas which we imagine. Amazing, is it not?
But there is a fly in the ointment. We find ourselves conjuring up the worse, horrific consequences, things within our power, things not within our power to command.
This story, written over the course of two days, is the result of our discussions plus my own personal speculations of every day, inconsequential events.
Meet Queenie. Click here to read The Horrors of Mr. Mann.
They say, ” change takes time.”
It’s happening all around, everywhere, every second, every nanosecond. No need to get on board. You already are.
Don’t be fooled by smallness. Little things are powerful. New story.
She’s poetry, every move she makes, every thought. Click here.