I’m currently taking a class in southern India, two weeks down and one left. As a project, I’m writing a story each day about what I’m experiencing, but as a twist I’m tryig to put them in the POV of locals. Today’s snippet is from “Dust,” a story I wrote about a beggar woman on the street.
Dust is everywhere. It blankets the streets and sidewalks, stray dogs and abandoned sandals and trash. It is kicked up by passing buses and motorbikes and rickshaws, mixing with their exhaust to form a perpetual haze above the city. Dust, along with the scents of garbage and spices and a million people crammed together, is inescapable.
Gheeta, a creature of the streets, has been surrounded by dust for so long she no longer notices it. It cakes her bare feet, decorates her sari and hair, and flavors whatever food she is lucky enough to have.
“Feed Gheeta,” she keens as she approaches them, pantomiming scooping food to her mouth, “feed Gheeta.”
They walk on.
Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.