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Smell of wood and the shops own unique smell wafted into my nose and the small, diminutive gaps of light seeped through the roof above. Grumpy, depressed, tired people sat by, seeming as if they were waiting for something exciting to happen. The wind whispered in my ears, making the dreamcatchers  with a blue ren's feathers tinkle like tiny, faint bells in the distance. As I cautiously walked on the wooden planks to the counter, the elderly stared at me as if they were disappointed in something I did, but what was it? The floor groaned and I winced as cockroaches quickly scurried to the other side with their tiny legs moving at the speed of light.

Once I had finally made it to the desk, the shopkeeper came and stared at me like the strangers who looked as if they despised me. The shopkeeper had a distinct smell and she was quite old. She had a frail, fragile flower that she seemed to carry all the time and an apron that looked as if it was going to tear any moment. She did some gestures and I understood it immediately since I knew sign language. Go and browse around my shop. You might need something that I have.

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The smell of spices wafted through the stalls and all the jewels blinded me because it reflected off the sun's rays. A cacophony of sounds reached my ears, some were melodious flute-like sounds and some were of toddlers throwing tantrums. There was a weak and feeble trader with sharp eyes staring at me like I was a criminal, I realised he was moving his pointer finger back and forth so I hesitantly walked over. All the jingling of coins and the arguing of the costumers to reduce the price seemed to have faded away as the trader stared at me, deep in thought. He looked at a shining ring that was even shinier than the sun, then at me repeating it, after a while the blast of sound surrounded me again and the strange trader was gone. I shook my head from the daze and walked to a stall.

I was flabbergasted, no stall in this Souk that I'd ever been to had such a variety of fruits. They were like a blast if colours surrounding me. There were peaches, watermelons, grapes and so much more. Only wealthy people could get all these fruit. What kind of trader would want to sell the market when they had enough money to buy all this.

While I walked around, I noticed a shop full of gold. Thousands of pots full of bars of gold, statues of gold, doors embedded with gold, everything gold! I knew there was nothing I could buy

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The sun beamed in through the patterned roof. Pots clinked and a foreign aroma wafted through the narrow lane. Lots of traders had made their stalls here. Hooded people strolled past, clutching expensive leather pouches that contained things of much value.

My feet brought me to a stop outside a stall. There was a musky curtain to my side. I tentatively pushed it aside. Inside, a muscular trader with a beard whiter than Santa Claus' motioned me over. His stall was full of pots with scrawled with writing. A dazzling jar caught my eye, it was embroided with emerald gems, I looked for the price tag before remembering that this was a place for trading, there would be no set price. He pointed to a razzmatazz rug with fringed tuffs and said something in a tongue I did not understand. I moved out of his space and continued down the brick path. Spices, gold, myrrh, everything was in these stalls.

"I told you already, I am not buying anything other than that jar."  boomed a voice with a thick middle-eastern accent. There were two traders dressed alike to any others person in this place. "Your loss", he said shaking his head.

The jar, I thought, could it be the one in the stall from before? Out of curiosity, I went back to the same stall, opened the curtain and, everything was gone...

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Krishan person who is 🤡

The souk was overflowing with traders, stallholders  and men in white robes. The occasional exotic-looking man passed through, with strange appearances. The market sellers shouted their wares and stubbornly bartered with outraged customers. Others just wandered around with trays upon trays of goods. But the majority of the people there were customers, ambling, pushing and shoving through the swelling crowds. Behind the portable shops, a treasure trove of all things from all corners of the Middle East were piled up high, away from the lowlifes and pickpockets who roamed the marketplace. Clothes in the traditional flowing style of those parts hung on racks under the watchful eyes of shopkeepers. Exotic spices gave off a strong aroma, floating out of the Egyptian sumac jars by the souk's entrance. There were many other objects of obscurity, too- the scimitar seller opposite the spice shop, the gigantic golden pots, and the dishevelled old man with the seemingly meaningless paintings; splashes of glossy,
shiny paint on a considerable amount of canvas. I didn't belong in any part of the Middle East.

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I looked over my shoulder, someone was looking at me intently like I had done something wrong or I looked unusual. I meant to come to this country for a holiday but now I was stuck in this never-ending marketplace with someone stalking me like a mad scientist. I finally got it. He was asking for money. I quickly gave him some of my spare change and he mysteriously smiled and rushed away. I was stuck in this maze of markets. Shop-keepers were ringing bells and offering something amazing. I hardly remember how I got here. First I was in the city park minding my own business and I was whooshed off at 100 miles an hour. I was out cold.

When I woke up, I found myself in this massive marketplace. So that is where I am now. I can smell sausages and fried rice, those beautiful smells making my tummy tingle with hunger. Unfortunately I don't have my wallet on me. This place is never ending. Toothless shopkeepers are dressed in peculiar clothing and waving at me like I am some sort of celebrity. This place is boiling. The sun is coruscating around the walls giving it an eerie glow and enlightening the place.

I desperately ask someone if there is a way out of here and they smile. They tell me that they can help me, my face shines, and glints in the sun. I am going to get out of here. I hope...

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Strange foreigners walk past holding something suspicious in a leather pouch. I ignore them as they disappear into the crowd around me. I spot the bazaar and smell the sweet aroma of meat cooking. I stop and stare at all the goods and dinner hung outside. Johanas, a wise and short man, sees me and gives me a hearty smile. He points around at the barbecued animals or beautifully crafted carpets. A sound from behind me catches my attention.

Two tall traders with turbans on their heads are shouting and arguing like two lions over a kill. 'SMASH!' One of them throws an emerald flask in anger. Johanas pleads with them to stop their fighting and agree on peace in his native tongue. They take no notice of him. Johanas walks over to one and places an arm on his shoulder. They elbow him in the stomach and he falls and hits his head on a sharp slab. I rush to him and feel warm blood coming from the back of his head. He looks at me, his face kind and caring. " *Sputter* Protect... the... shop..f...for....m...*cough*" His eyes roll back in his head and his hand no longer holds mine. A great feeling of anger overwhelms me. I feel his skin. Cold. A single tear oozes down my cheek then comes a waterfall. The traders are still arguing. Does no one care in this sad world? Then, the foreigners from before return. They have a gun. 'BOOM!' The trader who killed Johanas clutches his stomach. A war in the souk has begun.

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It was strange how I got here. One second, I was closing my tired eyes on the steel train, the next I was...well I don't really know. Explosions of yells, shouts and blood-curling screams boomed through the whole city, while I was still trying to figure out what had happened. Emerging from the cobblestone, a giant waft of delicious apple pie and even bigger wave of putrid rubbish entered my nasal cavity. Both disgusted and intrigued, I wandered towards the tsunami of smells

As I finally opened my eyes, I was standing in front of a gruff bearded man holding
an apple. Before anything came out of my paralysed mouth, a sudden voice entered my ears 'SAVE POINT, would you like to save?' Suddenly my now paralysed body whispered an almost silent 'yes'. Before retreating into a random shop...or should I say a buffet.

Their was eggplant lasagne, Italian-style roast chicken, Skirt steak with green sauce anmuch much more. For a second I thought an army of giants would stomp in any moment and start devouring all this food which is fit for the gods. A worker asked if I was hungry, immediately I replied with a quick yes. She offered me what looked like all the gems, ice-cream favours and a statue of what I call 'the ultimate steak'. I hesitated before another popped into my head, 'in your blue jacket, there is enough money for a castle, pay for one' and so I did.

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The light poured into the packed Souk. Traders arguing with their angry customers. I stare at the gold artwork in front of me, smelling the cinnamon flowing around me. I ask the trader how much it is. "50 Dirhams," he responded gripping my hand for a hand shake. His hand was cold and clammy as it touch my soft hand. " That's too much," I reply.
"Then it's 40," The trader said looking at me. His eyes had soft dark rings under them. He had a short beard, rough around the edges but looked like a good family man . " Ok I'll take that," I said as he passed me the artwork. My fingers scrape along the art and I can feel the gold paint piling on the red canvas. I continue up the line of stalls slithering forever it seems. Then a clearing full of people talking and dancing. I see a food stall and suddenly feel my hunger kicking me in the stomach. I go up to the stall. "How much is the couscous ," I asked with my stomach gurgling.
" 35 dirhams," the weatered old lady replied. I took my couscous and sat down looking at the friendly crowd dancing.

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Colours surround me in the souk. Sellers were calling out, enticing people to buy there extravagant wares. Mixed smells of food wafted up my nose. There was so much going on. Customers were arguing with the persistent traders about prices, I was lost in the bright and dazzling atmosphere. People surround me and I push myself forward. The mass of multicoloured clothes danced around me.
"Carpets, Persian Carpets," I heard a seller yell. A small old woman turned around viewing the different items.  The sun sneaked through the gaps in the grating above spotlighting a small stall. They had a massive pan and were making a giant pan of Piella. The line infront of the stall was a mile long.

Wandering along the path, leaning in to look at certain objects I noticed how many different stalls there were for the first time. Food stalls were crammed on one side making anything from Pork Ribs to Lovo. On the other side traders were selling everything, from a pencil to a giant stone statue in the shape of a hippo.

Books were exchanged for money as dusty lamps were exchanged batteries or torches. This was different from any other market I had ever been to, this was the Marrakesh Souk

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The markets were bustling with all types of food, people, donkeys and all sorts of beautiful art pieces, but all I was interested in was the intricate style of foods laying flat on the table and the meaty aroma of some of the lamb wafted up my nose like a river. I almost passed out from all the beautiful aromas floating around me, I looked around ready to try some food and I got what I wanted a plate full of a juicy steak with bean sprouts and a fluffy crèpe with maple syrup for dessert. I was all full so I started to walk around to look at some goods, I saw strange people who could turn things into wax using only their fingers and I saw someone breathing fire from their mouth to roast a fat pig with its fat dropping of the side while roasting.

Then I saw a beautiful sleek black stallion with its mane glistening of the bright sunlight, I saw it galloping at full speed in the racetrack and it was overtaking all the other horses, I'd never seen a more beautiful horse than this. After I was finished admiring the black stallion I went towards the art section I saw some massive marble blocks sticking out of the water as if to defy gravity, I also saw a tiny price of artwork with tiny intricate details that forged a magnificent eagle.

I started to get hungry again so I went to the snack bar and got a large box of buttered popcorn, it was delicious I tasted the butter melt in my mouth with a little crunch. It seemed as if everything was great in the market, ow I felt a sharp sting on my thigh it was a Glaucus Atlanticus(REAL!!!) I fell down and blacked out.
I opened my eyes with a bright line shining down on me, was I in heaven? "JACOB CLEAN YOUR ROOOOOOM!!!" Nope definitely not.

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I walk down the paved path looking from side to side to see the traders sitting on wooden crates with their merchandise behind them ready for selling. The more richer people were strolling down the path looking from side to side looking at the traders almost pleading faces.

I feel a pleasant warm tickling on the back of my neck and I realise that there was shunshine streaming down in beautiful rays creating a picturesque view in front of me. I keep walking down until I reach an old man with a bushy white beard who looks up at me from behind his portable stove and smiles at me in a genuine way. I buy some off his curry but leaves his glittering expensive blanket and towels that were up for sale.

I kept walking while eating out of a bamboo bowl. The curry was the best thing I had ever tasted. The juice trickled down my through warming me up from the inside and leaving a spicy aftertaste. Only after I had practically licked the bowl clean was I satisfied.

As I walked back the other way to go back home I saw the old man who I bought the curry from auguring with another customer. When he saw me he winked at me, his brilliant blue eyes twinkling in the sun and dished me out another bowl of curry!

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The aroma of the cinnamon and herbs greeted my nose. There was chaos everywhere and bustling traders trying to advertise their wares. Through the wooden roof, blinding light shone in, illuminating the area where the souk was held.

Outside each store there were dozens of decorations, calling for rich buyers, and impatient traders sitting on stools. I could even feel the excitement and wonder in the air. The wooden tiles underneath my feet felt warm and used, many people had walked the same path. I could hear price negotiations, descriptions of goods and even social chitchat between buyers about their incredibly cheap or expensive products. The variety of goods ranged from African spices to Malaysian roti to Vietnamese hats.

The souk was a crowded and brilliant place to be but, east or west, home is best.

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The odor of exotic arromats struck my nose as I continued slowly down the paved footpath that was dappled with fading sunlight. I ran my browned fingers down intricate trapestrys that protuded from the marketplace stalls as a vicious dispute broke out between a firey red trader and a wise, ancient woman. Their screams rang in my ears but, even when I was at the delicious smelling shop, it couldn't put out the lively tunes and genuine drum beats of the Marrakech Souk. Steam billowed out of countless booths and hid numerous gracious, elegant people from sight.

My pale, amethyst eyes widened with every turn as more unbelievable pots and tapestrys came into view. Bowls upon bowls of wondrous currys and creative desserts were waved in my face, tempting me even further towards buying won. My resistance broke and I ripped a couple of dollar bills out of my pocket and shoved it at the nearest merchant who eagerly handed me a concoction of delicious tropical ingredients steaming and bubbling with magnificence.  Oh what a great place.

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The clinking of money made me want to buy more. I stood on the dusty, tiled ground, starring at carpets and clothes. Men shuffled around, bare feet, and glared at me as if I was meant to take my shoes off. I sat down on an oak wood seat and slowly kicked my ankles, taking my Nike shoes off my feet. A group of women walked past me and covered their nose at the odour. Why was I here? I thought back to the yellow taxi; I asked the taxi driver to drive me back to my house, but he drove a whole lot to here. I offered him my crinkled money, but he didn't except it.

I walked back to the shop I was in, there was a conversation with a customer and the shopkeepers, but that little talk became into a verbal fight. They were screaming, pointing at some bamboo chairs. I couldn't be understand them, they were speaking a whole different language, then I thought about the taxi driver that was dressed formally, he drove for at least an hour, and didn't want my money. Why?

I went up to the yelling shopkeeper and he stopped. He stared at me, as if I did something horribly wrong. I backed up hoping that he wouldn't fight me. He turned back to the customer, smiled and patted his back. The customer grapped neatly folded notes from his pocked, handed it to the shopkeeper and took off with the bamboo chair. I used sign language to ask him where I was. I lifted my hand to the height of my shoulders and shrugged as if it say 'where'. I then pointed my thumb to my chest to say, 'I'. I used my pointer finger to the floor, 'now'.

I was pretty sure it was good sign language as he nodded and said, "Kabalala."

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Chapter 1
I strolled elegantly with a sense of superiority flowing from my body. I was here on a mission to barter for a priceless artefact; an archaeologist's dream. Most people who passed by this treasure thought it was something that the owner had found on the street, but a few knew just how much this historically important object was really worth. Sadly, this included the owner of the shop. This artefact was the precious stone that the first king of the country had worn, embedded in his highness's crown. Although this was the most important trade of my life, I was quickly overwhelmed by all the cacophony of sound, the mixtures of smell and all the strange sights of things that although were not important nor related to any of my trades, I was still tempted to buy them. Finally, I arrived at a gloomy shop, covered in dust and grime with a miniscule old man, who looked like he was almost a hunchback. Most people were avoiding this shop and doing this rather obviously. I walked up to the man filled with purpose and joyful that I had reached my intended destination slightly early, instead of looking around for the rest of the day. Now, the real work began...

Chapter 2

I came face to face with the man and told him my name and my business here: I had told him to expect me here sometime this week. He told me that he was ready to commence the negotiations, but also warned me that many had tried and all had failed to gain this precious possession. I nodded, expecting this, but I wouldn't go home until I gained this thing in a bargain where I still would have some money left. My first bargain was to get it for 125 million Indian Rupee (2.5 million Australian Dollars). The man said no as expected so I went with my second price: 150 million Indian Rupee (3 million Australian Dollars).

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The cobblestone ground seemed endless as I ran and stumbled into the Crowded Souk. Smells of street food and spices wafted past my nose. They made my mouth water and stomach rumble. But it wasn't the time to eat. I had to get as far away as possible. Eager people pushed and shoved past me to get to the delicious food. Red meat and fresh seafood flashed before my eyes. Those shops were sure to get millions of hungry people.

As I ran I noticed another small and elegant shop that was very crowded. Curious, I veered to the left to catch a glimpse. The sight made me gasp. Hundreds of radiant gold jewellery hung from the dull mannequins. Diamonds shimmered in the light and rubies, as red as fire made even the wealthiest people gasp in wonder. I spotted  one very wealthy looking woman, with fiery red hair, who had jewellery draped all over her. She pulled out thousands of dollars and offered it to the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper, an old saggy man, eagerly snatched her money and offered her a choice out of all his goods. I was already past the magnificent jewellery shop by then but even from far away I heard the jealous groans when the audience saw the woman's choice.

I ran past hundreds of beggars and snotty wealthy people with their noses in the air. Broken, dusty and abandoned shops next to new, flashy and more exciting ones. Suddenly behind me I heard shouts and commands. They found me! Panicking I ran faster and faster into the crowd...

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Shouts came from all around as buyers and traders bartered for spices, bags and other beautifully made products. Old traders sat infront  of their shops shouting out to buyers to enter their shops. Sculptures, jewellery and many other old Asian wares were being sold all around me only after a good deal of shouting though. Beautiful light seeped through the bamboo roofing filling the small alleyway with light and bringing an overall joyous vibe to the small yet loud market place. The market was filled with colours in every direction whether it is the colour of a carpet or jewellery or sculpture it was just beautiful. The smell of rich spices and well cooked meat filled the air making anyone in a ten metre radius's mouth water. Though I was familiar with the language they spoke here some of the word spoken here were completely different to the language I knew yet everyone seemed to understand it. "This market is one strange place" I thought to myself. Suddenly a gunshot rang out through out the market a caught a glimpse of someone lying down in a pool of blood. Suddenly a felt a heavy wait land in my hands. I looked down, their was a gun in my hands... and everyone was glaring at me. I had been set up.

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The conundrum hit my eardrums. My bare feet cautiously led my body along the cobblestone path. Peering up above me, my eyes rested on a straw roof. Chinks of light forced their way through the diminutive cracks between the golden lengths of straw. My eyes take over my body, exploring one stall after the other. From exotic earnings to familiar fruits, I was beginning to get a headache from the excitement. The smell of sizzling meat wafted into my nose, watering my growing plant of hunger inside. A shiver was sent down my spine as an elderly lady grinned at me, showing her crooked, grey teeth. My heart seemed to freeze as I was shoved through a doorway and into an ancient shop. I turned around to face the doorway but nobody was there. I observed the shop that I had involuntarily entered. It was decorated with a fluorescent array of patterned rugs. Hidden in the corner of the room were tiny antiques, coated on dust. I tried to turn around and leave the shop, but my legs wouldn't cooperate.

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Walking down the isle I was astonished to see so many colours, it was a dazzling view. My eardrums were exploding with all the cacophony around me. Sellers were yelling at the top of their lungs just to be heard. Not far from me two men were arguing over a bag of meat. The seller meanwhile was encouraging them to buy the meat for more. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a mischievous young boy running from a shopkeeper. People of all ages were at this street hoping to get something for a good price. Mothers called for their children while men argued for a better price.

All of the food from fruit and vegetables to meat and stew was incredible but what the most fascinating thing was the smell of it. New smells entered my nose and from curiosity I went to have a look. I tasted a piece of unknow chilies and the moment it entered my mouth it was on fire. I had never ever in my whole life tasted something so spicy. I had to eat some bread to cool it down but even then my mouth was burning.

People were yelling just to be heard. In a small alley two men were secretly swapping something that looked like a bag of gold. I already had a headache and to imagine that these people came here everyday made me wonder how they do it. This is their everyday life.

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Coruscating sunlight shone through the small gaps in the roof of the aromatic souk, casting dappled shadows on the customers' faces. Fruits, vegetables and other miscellaneous items were showcased in the fronts of stalls, smells of all sorts wafting around in the air. Traders spoke in many different tongues, creating a cacophony of noise, harshly entering people's ears. The colours popped from the items hanging from the walls, like razzmatazz, electric yellow and vivid green, all fighting for dominance in the view. Fresh bread and pastries sat waiting behind glass counters, as were brightly wrapped sweets and chocolates. Shiny red apples and dazzling yellow lemons were stacked to the ceiling in pyramids of tumbling fruits, plonking onto unfortunate customers' heads now and again. Leather bags, shimmering jewellery, tapestries and dreamcatchers hung by the dozens off hooks and knobs that protruded from the walls. As the souk closed for the day, and the customers streamed out of the marketplace, a broad, muscular customer walked inside, with bulging pockets and a black balaclava.

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Spices wafted into my nostrils and I weaved my way through the multiple stalls as the light filtered in through the overhead gaps in the boards in the ceiling. It was busy, with hopeful traders shouting out the prices of their many wonderful items. Beautiful golden pots and pans hung from hooks in one store as a tired old trader waited in front for a customer to buy his glittering equipment. Customers busily bargained prices, hoping for a better profit.

People pushed and shoved and out of the corner of my eye I saw a fight in action. Men were chanting, placing bets on which one of the two would win. A frightened lady covered her children's eyes as one thin, tall man with a bleeding nose was pinned to the ground as a bulky, bearded man raised his fist in triumph. The cheers erupted from the gathered crowd and my eardrums almost split from the din.

I hurried on, my nose following the tempting smell of the spices, when I came to the stall I had been waiting for. Bowls and sacks were stacked on shelves and the young trader looked content. He must've had many customers and must have made a great profit. The trader finally noticed me and turned towards me. He asked if I wanted some and I agreed, choosing only the best. The sack thumped my leg each step I took as I ran through the market and watched the sights whizz past me. The fat pig roasting on a stick. The arguing trader and customer. The stall full of rugs and blankets. The dancing ladies and the crowd surrounding them.

This is where I belong.

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Claire is good very at propers Englishes

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Claire is good very at propers Englishes

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I looked around in wonder, the smell of spices filling my noise, the floorboards creaking under my feet, people chattering in strange languages and the sun weaving its way through gaps in the wooden ceiling. There were exotic fruits and vegetables, hot spices and delicious meals. Rugs with intricate designs, jewellery that glimmered, bowls and plates that looked like the would smash if a single feather dropped. And the smells! So many interesting, new smells of food I had never even heard of. And the colours! Gold earrings, green vegetables, brown stools, rainbow cushions, blue paintings, the list went on and on.

Looking around, I decided to choose a shop to explore, and though my stomach was grumbling, I chose one shop with dusty books that covered the floor, touched the roof, and filled the shelves. A small but wise-looking man emerged from one of the particularly large book piles said something I couldn't hear because of the cacophony of noise. He came closer and I realised that he too smelt like books, a musty kind of smell I can't describe. "Hello," he said in a very strong accent. "What do you want?"

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The horrendous cacophony drained all thoughts from my head, making my eyes just stare. Stare at ancient rags and many spices, bags and lots of different precious ornaments. Arguing and shouting as people bartered for a range of old things, and the raging of those horrible noises never ended. Never ending paths of small stalls were everywhere, shopkeepers with no customers, many stalls with writhing crowds to get a peek at the expensive object. Streams of light came in through neatly sewed roofs, giving the place light. My feet cautiously led me through the place, with many items to choose from.

The bags, ornaments, jewellery, food, mats, rugs, spices and small statues were scattered in the stalls creating making me wanting to buy more things from the distant noise of the clinking of money. A man threw his fist up high in the dust filled air with triumph of winning the expensive item. In the corner of my eye I glimpsed two secretive men handing each other a mysterious leather pouch. Probably money or a special ornament they are trading. The ornament had trickled of gold

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I stared at the glistening eye perfectly gouged in the golden plate, amber embedded in the ornament, trickles of gold intertwined to form a thick rim of golden branches around it. A slither of silver hiding in the slits where the eye was. The gaunt trader noticed my interest in the plate and rapidly ordered " That ornament is not for sale!" I was surprised by his rather rushed manner and wondered why this ornament was displayed, surely something as rare as this would have the trader shouting for customers.

I looked back at the eye and saw it in a completely different way, it was mesmerising. The cut crystal in the middle lacked any imperfections it body providing the illusion it was found with dozens of faces perfectly cut into the luminous stone. I gazed at the monument my eyes glued to the central eye and suddenly felt a strange urge, my hands trembled by my sides and slowly one shaky hand dragged itself towards the plate.

The trader screamed at me but the screams were muffled as, instead all that I could hear was the faint market music pierced by a high-pitched squeal distinctly emerging from the now glowing ornament. The ornament slowly started making a crackling noise as the branches of gold split and drifted away in small particles and gold flakes. Now a whistling noise came as if there was a burst gas pipe, a partially opaque white liquid dribbled down the monument. Then slowly, my hand touched it. Nothing.

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Marrakesh souk