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K. Kocheryan
Bio
I write, delete, write, and on most days, delete again.
Achievements (1)
Stories (40/0)
Critiques Needed: First pages of Project Styx. Top Story - January 2024. Content Warning.
Authors note: I would like constructive critiques on the first pages of a sci-fi fantasy book I am working on. I would like to know first impressions and things that need to be worked on. This is so I can get an idea of what an agent or editor might think. I also know that this is long—no need to read the whole thing, in fact, tell me when you lose interest.
By K. Kocheryan6 months ago in Critique
How a Painting of a P*ssy Helped Shape an Art Movement. Content Warning.
The painting itself, when viewed from today’s society and our modern history by a bird flying through all our chapters of human existence—is not all too explicit or scandalous, maybe a little provocative towards some wide, dry eyes. Though back in the artist's day, it faced controversy because it's a painting of a boob, torso, thighs, and a p*ssy. (Google it for the uncensored version.)
By K. Kocheryan6 months ago in Art
The Door’s Locked. Finalist in 2023 Vocal Writing Awards - Horror Fiction. Top Story - September 2023. Content Warning.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Cherry stood in front of the accident: a lake hidden between tall whispering trees with a perfectly preserved old wooden dock. The lake, which had a local nickname, but wasn’t important enough for Cherry to remember, contained countless good memories; it washed over the area in a thick coat of paint: its hues ever-changing after every visitor. But that was its lie, and within that lie hid its true depths, the memories caged, and the number of bodies it had stored over its long life. Even Cherry couldn’t help but indulge, imagining a day when she would watch the stillness, soaking her feet in the stained water.
By K. Kocheryan9 months ago in Fiction
Chapter: OCD and that Thing.
(Written in third person for distance.) Half her feet dangled over the cliff edge ever since she first heard God Pan's silent shout as a child. Sometimes she could predict when it would happen; sometimes, she could not. But whenever it happened, something behind her would dig their fingers into her back and push. She would lean forward. And when she leaned forward, heels still firmly planted, eyes looking down towards a cold void, she saw all the horrible possibilities pushing and pulling at the surface—teeth trying to cut through, claws trying to rip open. However, when she wasn’t looking, they would merely knock.
By K. Kocheryan9 months ago in Chapters
Michelangelo's David - The veil between us.
When looking up at him, as one must towards the famous sculpture, I wondered as I gazed upon his details, such as delicate veins and toned muscle and thoughtful texture, whether the real man or entity resides inside, watching me looking up—an experience of a transaction between mortality and immortality.
By K. Kocheryan10 months ago in Critique
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