Poetry

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To be beautiful,

To be seen,

Even when spiraling,

Begging by all means.

To be free,

Yet barred.

Fictional writing

 The small town of Upton, had always been a place of peculiar occurrences. 

As the light sun began its descent in 1985, casting a  glow over the familiar streets, it seemed like a peaceful haven. 

Yet, for someone like me, who had come to Upton in search of a fresh start, it was a town brimming with mysteries waiting to unfold.

I stood on the porch of my small, weathered house, gazing at the fading light of the day. 

My vintage car, a relic from a different era, was parked nearby, a symbol of the journey that had led me here. 

With my auburn hair catching the evening breeze and my eyes filled with a mix of confidence and vulnerability, I couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this seemingly ordinary place.

The quiet was abruptly shattered by the roar of a car engine, echoing through the neighborhood. 

Opinion piece- Riverine Herald