I submitted a new story to Narrative Magazine today. I wrote it in October. Here’s a tiny excerpt:
I have the hots for Ava and one of these days, she’s going to get the picture and I am going to make a breakthrough. I don’t know what’s holding Ava back. Well, I do actually. It’s the two big obstacles…
What an evening at Art Works in Richmond, Virginia. In the upstairs gallery, ethereal paintings adorned the walls. There were prints on the table and a stack of small books.
The lights went down in the upstairs gallery. The projector light came on the video “Fireflies” came up. It was a story, then paintings, then voice overs and images combined.
People listened, laughed and at the end clapped.
Thank you Chris Semtner for illustration my story. Addy Burkhead thank you for narrating the story and creating the voice overs. And thank you Keith M. Ramsey for putting the video and voice together. You now have this story memorized, I know!
I’ll post the video here tomorrow! Stay-tuned everyone!.
Glenda
I’m starting a new story. Here’s the first paragraph. Feels magical to me.
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 now 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 2017
Meet Stella. Click here.
A new story. Imagining a time in the future. Click here.
It was a test. They knew it. Four young people: one 28, one 27, one 26 and one 25 years old–male, female alternately. Two were musicians, two were not–all educated. No one told them it was a test. They instinctively and immediately realized this when they filed into the room and saw the four chairs–spaced exactly 24 inches apart–in a row. Each chair was different, like out of a museum. Perhaps they were museum pieces.
The 26 year old thoughtfully looked from chair to chair and then from face to face. After a few moments he moved in front of the high back wooden chair positioned directly beneath one of three stained glass windows. He bent over and examined the chair. After a moment, he straightened and glanced to his right. The 28 year old had quietly moved to his side. She was absorbed, examining the short wooden chair with arms. A horizontal, dark stained glass window through which no light could pass was behind and above it.
She felt his eyes upon her and looked his way. Her nod was almost as imperceptible as his. Together they left the room, she leading , he silently following.
The 27 year old shrugged her shoulders as she watched them leave.
“Shall we?” She held our her hands to the chairs.
He shook his head. Then smiled with his eyes. In two strides he was upon the chairs, moved two in front of the others.
She sat. He sat. They removed their music from their bags and placed it on the chair backs. He played flute, she percussion.
(C) Glenda Kotchish
January 18, 2017
VMFA American Wing
Images from pixabay.com
Here’s a short, short story. Hope you like it.
I’ve been busy, moving here and there. Networking with the art world in RVA. It’s been hot in Virginia, probably more so in North Carolina…here’s a story, very short. I hope you enjoy.
Glenda
She came back today–in a little wooden box–just her ashes. I’m glad to have even that small part of her. It may sound crazy, but I don’t care.
There was a card, “Patty, loved by the Kotchish family”. She was--loved by me. I miss her little grey and gold face and her brown eyes.
From time to time, I hear her toe nails clattering on the wood floors. And sometimes a glimpse of her out the corner of my eye. Is it a memory in my brain or something else? Who cares. Patty, I miss you, little one. Thanks for hanging out with me while you did.
June 28, 2016
GMK
