Cherrypicked stories

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Your Country Needs You

The Great (or not so great) War
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Morpheus (Roman god of sleep and dreams )

Incubus (a male demon believed to have sexual intercourse with sleeping women)
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Keeping up Appearances

Inspiration Point...spider and a red dress....
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Greenwood Tree : Prologue

Pagan gods don’t walk away just because you stop looking at them. The Gronny Patch sleeps; perhaps it dreams. Let it . .
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A Cup of Tea

You were forewarned and when you are lost Remember the tragedy I promised.
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3 boys

Three boys tired to sell me a Christmas tree for one pound, As I walked along black ground in January dusk.
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The Return

The opening of something longer, meaner and perhaps a little scarier. Aimed at a young-adult audience. How do people feel about the tone?
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Redress

This week's IPOW... The writer's revenge: writing about old hurts.
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Whose Ark?

Inspired by a Postsecret card.
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The French Dresser.

The beautiful antique dressing table seemed like a bargain. But its true cost would not be paid in money. It came with a very unpleasant history. And a long memory.
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BESIDE DORCHESTER, NB poem

It is a terrible experience to visit your son in prison. To see him locked behind barbed wire, with guards monitoring every movement. We still love him.
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Up River

repost poem version
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Friday Sonnet: Silver

No wine these grapes of hurt set free, No coin is bartered for their taste: my lover, My friend, you do no longer look at me… The forging of my fantasies is over:
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These Make the World Smile

"I bet you can't make me cum," she said. "I bet I can, my tongue is magic," I replied, the taxi driver staring at me in the rear view mirror. "No-one has ever made me before."
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Silence

There was silence. She looked up at me, her eyes huge and trusting, her lips trembling slightly, bitten red with panic. I caught her hands in mine and pressed them to my lips.
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The Sentinel

Alone I stand No friends have I My feet in earth I touch the sky No hands to hold No voice to sound I stand alone On higher ground My watchful eye Always alert No life to lose
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Prime Numbers

The day the world flinched, like sunlight through a coma they carried their dead on advertisement boards. Surgeons waited like ignoble cannibals to strip out their organs or lay them
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Escape Root

Escape Root (22nd January, 2009, 2.25pm) Today is sponsored by overtired SAD and the high squeals of the black-clad birds of prey; I pray on my own time,
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Memsaab

This story was an entry in the New Writing Season Competition at ABC Tales

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