Curtin Writers Club

The air was thick with spirits. "Poison apples! Poison apples! Get your poison apples here!" belted out an old man, shoving shrivelled, black apples into people's faces. A herd of tittering witchlings crowded around his kiosk, oohing and aahing with fingers crossed behind their backs. Lilith didn't stay to see their trick. There was much to discover here. Trinket stalls shrieked and screeched when she approached, the owners shushing their displays with taloned fingers. The sm