The first part of my short story....Only rough guys! please feedback.
Chloe is 10 years old; she loves her little teddy bear. The End. Now, You’re probably thinking ‘How on earth is that classed as a short story?’ Truth is, a short story is only as short as you make it. For example can you picture the teddy bear, is he brown or pink or even blue? Is he new or a tatty roughened bear? Is there any sentimental value? It’s all down to the power, imagination and creativity of your mind. But stop there now. I’m not about to bore you of an endless tale about a teddy bear.
Instead, I’m going to set my scene in the market square of Covent Garden’s, London. Picture it, in your head, even if you may not have been there or seen or even have the faintest idea of what it does look like, it’s an ordinary market square with cute little dainty shops side by side full of the most bizarre unique gifts, each shop offering something different, the whole area, completely thriving with people, holiday makers, busy business men and women and even children playing ‘IT’ around the middle of the square.
There are hungry pigeons, desperately pecking around and waddling from one person to the next trying to scavenge some scraps that had been dropped or thrown, meanwhile the sound’s of market stall owners take over the muffling of passer bys. “2 watermelons for £4.50!” shouted one of them. These deal’s sold like hot cakes.
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