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A visit to the Market

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Back here, we have these long, open markets,which kind of look like flea markets, but here these shops are actual businesses, and the things aren't old.. I honestly don't know how to explain, but from the picture and the story, I hope you will get an idea....
    The story in itself does not have much of a plot, but writing it was a relaxing, wonderful experience for me.... I hope you'll get some of that from reading it.. So....

The market was held every Sunday, day long. They say this is to give away the produce of the last week and to start anew and fresh, throwing in a great deal of symbolism, but everyone just want to lure the churchgoers from the old stone building three storefronts away.... The market is our town's version of a meeting, the same people were there every week, chattering to their neighbors. I too went there for social calls, but there was an added advantage; Murali's store. Where you can find coins of every denomination, from every country... A c…

Hope...

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Hey.. So surprise! I'm keeping my promise. , this month's post should have come out, so read up please....
About the post you're reading now, it's one of my rather sad ones, not depressing, but.... Well, if this story had a colour, it would be black and red, with traces of white....

It was a clear, autumn day. The perfect kind, where the light was dim, and yet it was warm enough to enjoy the trickle of melted snow from under the boughs of a tree. The kind where it seemed like nothing could go wrong.. But for a young girl on a cliff somewhere, her life was changing forever...

She was running, panting, her breaths shallow , her feet torn. Her tattered robes, the color of crimson swirled around her in the wind., her raven hair fell onto her face... She remembered running up the same crest of rock before, it seemed so long ago now, only she knew it was just yesterday...
 She remembered the feel of laughter bubbling in her throat, squealing as her father picked her up in his st…