Hi, I need help with essay on TMA 05: Professional piece aimed at a suitable print or internet magazine that you research. Paper must be at least 2500 words. Please, no plagiarized work!She was at Sal

Hi, I need help with essay on TMA 05: Professional piece aimed at a suitable print or internet magazine that you research. Paper must be at least 2500 words. Please, no plagiarized work!

She was at Salma’s house when it had started and her mother made Fatima and all the other children stay till the rain had let up a little.

It was Salma’s seventh birthday and her uncle had been telling them ghost stories for a treat after lunch. All the children squatted on the floor around the balding man,

who from an armchair, began to tell them terrifying stories of witches and shaitans. In spite of herself, she found herself recalling one of those horrible stories now. The woman in the story had teeth that stretched down to her chin, and matted hair that hid her white face. She would steal babies from their mothers once every fortnight, and no one ever knew what happened to them.

Fatima’s footsteps further increased in rapidity. She was almost running by the time the bend of her road was visible. Her house was the only one down that road. It was a lonely strip of land. There were plenty of trees on either side and stray wild goats would come to graze, once in a while. But there was a desolate air about the place. it needed human habitation. The moment she caught a glimpse of their rundown green door, Fatima began to run as fast as she could, forgetting the slippery road and her best silk dress which went flying behind her, now spattered with mud.

‘Really, Salma. your uncle is too good a storyteller!’ Salma smiled while Fatima remained quiet. She wished they would stop talking about it now. It was over now, all that bogus story-telling, why couldn’t they just concentrate on today? She moved away from them with her lunchbox. No one seemed to mind and Fatima spent the rest of the meal time tearing into her stale puris and vegetable curry.

‘Wait! What’s wrong with you, Moti-ma?’ Moti-ma or Fatty was something they would call Fatima affectionately because of how plump she was. or used to be till a year back. Fatima tried to smile at Salma,

The rains had begun in earnest now. Everyday, it