writing
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By Isabel Chalmers The bus engine strains in the heat, pleading with Charlie to stop driving. He doesn’t. The gravel under the tires crackles, tiny explosions of stone and old stories being agitated, bringing life back to the road. A cloud of red forms as the bus goes, as if the water-starved earth is breathing…
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Glints of viridian scales dance in front of my eyes, stealing my attention from my homework that sits in front of me. The twenty-litre tank sits on the left-hand side of my desk, the water filter bubbling away, low and even, conversing with the fish about my procrastination. With sparks of vermillion, the small school…
Isabel's Online Journal 