Tourists from all over the world come to this place to sightsee the old ruin and the ancient city as well as experience one of the richest cultures. The modern city is built on the wealth generated from the tourism and hospitality industries. This place never sleeps and is filled with alluring activities all year round.
He climbs over the old city gate with his makeshift sleeping bag and settles in a hole of his choice for the night in the old city wall. It doesn’t take long for him to drift off, feeling cosy in his shelter, with the celebratory music vibrating from the modern city through to the old city walls. He lives in the gap of the ancient ghosts and the modern slaves.
This is written as a Six Sentence Story based on Denise’s word prompt- Express
It was close to midnight. We decided to drive to the beach to experience the ocean under the moonlight.
We swam far and deep out of the ocean, exhilarated, shrieking with excitement between waves. The waves built bigger and stronger tossing us to a dangerous new high.
Then came the indigo storm, running towards us like an express train, forcing us to swim for our life. When it hit the shore in such great force, we were spat out like wreckage, exhausted and intertwined, looking like a cluster of seaweeds.
The city became so unbearable, she finally moved to the suburb where greenery filled her eyes. She woke up to some pleasing sound, different from the noise of the city traffic or people’s small talk. It’s the sound of competition and harmony interchanging among the trees. She lit a cigarette but felt offensive to smoke it. She felt the same with takeaway meals. Living only with the company of birds made her realise there were so much junk in her life that she better lived without.
The day the Premier passed the bill which granted him with unprecedented power, the people who fought for their freedom felt downtrodden and devastated. The political climate cast a blanket of dark cloud over the state. Everyday ordinary people fell ill of foreseeing tyranny days.
There was a group of people went up to the highest place of the city and wept bitterly to their God. The mountain shook, and soon after, a hail storm broke out. They fled to seek refuge under some banana plantation.
When all was passed, they heard of the news that their Premier was struck dead by a ginormous hailstone while giving a celebratory speech at a press conference outside the parliament house.
It took a life time to sketch our love story.
There is magic in this old medium where beauty crafted from painstaking attention.
It would be ideal if we recorded our first encounter and played it back when we wanted to walk away from each other.
If we could make a copy of our honeymoon and broadcast it throughout our hardship, it would have been an easier journey.
Video held old memories as new, we wanted to believe.
But after a life time of creation, our story became a piece of intriguing art.
Life dealt him a bad hand that no child should have had withstood. A broken soul became a harden man who experienced no pleasure nor pain in the act of violence. Prison life gave him a chance to be a vigilante who did justice for the abused and murdered children.
He thought about the Boss upstairs a lot actually. He thought to himself ‘I am only an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I will make it to heaven. My life isn’t such a bad deal after all.’
She knows all the seasons from the bottom of the well.
The fragrant rain of red and white Ruby Cascade drizzles in Springtime. Her skin is covered with mosquito bites all through Summer. She hears the honeyeaters singing and imagines them hovering whilst feeding off the Grevillea. When the bats start returning to share the well, she knows it is Wintertime.
If you have been held captive in a well for seven years, you would learn to notice all seasons without counting the days.