Cherrypicked stories

Cherry

SF Pt.7 The River of Shit.

Gatwick was not always London's second busiest airport.
Cherry

Summer in the San' 1956

2nd in the trilogy Life in The San'1956 Edited Version
Cherry

The First Day In The TB Sanatorium 1956

This is the first in a trilogy of poems about my days in the TB San' 1956
Cherry

Professor Jones Lectures on Death and Dying

There are many kinds of death and each one a child's. He quotes from Lucretius When death is, we are not at his right hand I drift through the last taboo unafraid of expiation.
Cherry

An occasional poem for Christmas

A bit of Christmas dreer. All the best poems begin with 'In', innit? But I didn't write the initial 'In' of this one, so I'm not being big-headed. Happy Christmas! :0)
Cherry

RS10 - The Aftermath

Ryan and Ben talk about last nights events leading to a confession from Ryan. Meanwhile, his brother puts a new plan into motion.
Cherry

The Angel of Mons - Chapter twelve

Twelve George raised himself slowly and accepted his cup of tea with a smile. Graham drew back the curtains and when George looked up all he could see was uninterrupted blue sky.
Cherry

He Wears Me!

Still ticking!!!
Cherry

The dreaming

I have a dream
Cherry

Head space

When did the wind gaffer two Stanley knives together to slice me like this? Fingers reddened to clay; but the metaphorical hi-viz and hard hat untouched in the back of the car
Cherry

THE CAMEL BOY

A young boy and his camels, endless days in the desert, and the injustice of life. So hopeless is his life that he has even forgotten his name.
Cherry

CHRISTMAS CALLING

A mixture of old and new with a touch of magic
Cherry

Rib Graft Surgery

Dear Diary, I've decided to write in detail about 3 Major surgeries I've had in my life. The first one I will tell you about is my Rib Graft.
Cherry

Browsing Through CDs at the Supermarket

This was my second time around the aisles in half an hour and the still empty basket at my side was making me feel conspicuous.
Cherry

Mouse

Will Mouse befirend Cat? Trust? Betrayal? Very short.
Cherry

Letters to a Dead Man

I can’t believe I am writing a letter to a dead man. It’s crazy. It’s not like I really knew you.
Cherry

Mother (or Findus Crispy Pancakes)

Those nights in front of the gas fire with the Mitchells, Dingles, Duckworths. You cooked Findus crispy pancakes and I basked in the warm orange glow, your little superman in spiderman pyjamas.
Cherry

Champagne, Maybe

I am drunk and they know. I lift my head. A shard of glass sticks out from low in my stomach, catches the lamppost light. It’s a striking image. I should write a song about it.

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