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Market Day
I wrote this some time ago as a piece of descriptive writing for English Lit, but wound up using something else that in my opinion was worse, yet still got me an A*. Anyway, I forgot it existed 'til now and having recently rediscovered it I decided to see what fellow writers would think.
[Disclaimer: I never did finish it either]
Market Day
The grizzled, ex-solider wandered through the streets, darkened eyes taking in every minute detail of his surroundings. He sniffed the air as he passed through the market, taking in the strange combination that came from the heavy aroma of exotic spices and the musky smell of ripe corn that had been harvested only a day hence. He moved slowly, unhurried and unaffected by the hustle and bustle around him as traders sold their wares and people rushed to buy what the needed in the hopes of reaching their homes in time for a warm supper. Young boys stood behind overflowing stalls, shouting and advertising their wares with voices that were just beginning to break into a deep, bass tone. The man smiled, remembering the days when he was doing the exact same thing under his father’s supervision.
He moved further into the throng, always having to sidestep or twist his upper body slightly to avoid bumping against someone. The old, worn, blackened cobblestones that laced the floor poked upwards at random intervals, always a threat to the unwary patron. A soft rustling drew his attention to a stall on his left, and a Persian trader caught his eye. The darkly skinned man was showcasing his goods, all of which were fine silks in rich, vibrant colours, from deep, kingly purple to the softest of reds. The solider shook his lockless head and moved on, wondering why anyone would buy Persian silks sold in the great city of Rome, which had its own vast collection of the finest fabrics.
Less than a half mile further through the legendary city, and he was forced to a halt. A wide convoy of animals lurched slowly down the crowded street before him, heading for the infamous Coliseum. The pungent aroma of the wild beasts filled his nostrils, mixing with the vibrant stench of spices to create a strange, sickly sweet combination. Many of the captive creatures paced to and fro in their confining cages, sometimes pausing to growl or yawn, showcasing their terrifying collection of yellowed, razor-like teeth. The crowd still moved like a surging wave, with only sidelong glances and the awed gasps of children greetings the monster’s display. Such things were a regular occurrence in the day to day life of Rome, especially this close to the grand Arena.
As the caravan passed, the solider pushed on. To his right came catcalls and cries of joy, detracting his attention yet again. A small troupe of dwarf actors were performing on a filthy, makeshift stage, to the great delight of the assembled crowd. Under the cautious watch of the black armoured guard, the performers acted out the comedic tragedy of a long dead Emperor, with a slight, fanciful twist. The vibrant, clashing shades of the elaborate costumes and oversized, face encompassing masks added to the comedic value.
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