Aussie Reader & Writer ✨ Content Strategist by day, Creative Writer after hours ✨
The mother tends to her saplings. Labored, serene. My Eden, fruitless. (Inspired by the Earth element.)
By Rikki Wabout a year ago in Poets
The marketplace was a frenzied tornado of sight and smell. Rows upon rows of stalls occupied the small square selling everything from yesterday’s tomatoes to tomorrow’s predictions. Crowds gathered like schools of fish, fins out, each one vying to get a better look at what was on offer. Vendors, relishing in the numbers, advertised their goods the only way they knew how: by shouting at passers-by like enthusiastic howler monkeys.
By Rikki W2 years ago in Fiction
“Tickets, please,” said the ticket inspector, dully. “Of course, just a moment,” said Mrs Walberry, digging around in her purse, “I’ve got it here somewhere.”
