Leaving St Margaret behind along Station Road and up the hill towards Martin Mill. Above the hamlet a multicoloured arc clear and bright against the stark. Ends of the bow fading, drawing in so no mortal hand may lay upon its pot of gold.

Behind me on the road to Deal autumn sunshine brushes Kent’s countryside, bringing out colours in the landscape, deep hued evergreen and fire in the yellows and reds. All set against a foreboding contrast of moody grey clouds.


About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on Niume.com.
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