Cherrypicked stories

Cherry

Pub Banter! (East End Style)

“Where was you, when manners was handed out?” “Round the corner, having a fag. Where was you?” “Round the other one, shagging your Mum; there was a queue!”
Cherry

Teachologue

An insight....!!! Tearing hair out? Me? Never!
Cherry

The Story of the First Eclipse and How the Stars Were Born

A very long time ago before there were people on the earth, the Gods were sitting in their palace on high, and out of their boredom they created the Sun and the Moon to fill up the empty sky.
Cherry

Bright like Quartz

The white points of her knuckles are bright like quartz sticking out of heather where she’s holding on so hard and I think about her little skeleton underneath that rosy flesh.
Cherry

Peter Pan Poems

They are Peter Pan poems; they refuse to grow up!
Cherry

dddk 4 - plums and bums

The rise and fall of Dame Nellie...
Cherry

Your Country Needs You

The Great (or not so great) War
Cherry

Morpheus (Roman god of sleep and dreams )

Incubus (a male demon believed to have sexual intercourse with sleeping women)
Cherry

Keeping up Appearances

Inspiration Point...spider and a red dress....
Cherry

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 . .
Cherry

A Cup of Tea

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

3 boys

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

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?
Cherry

Redress

This week's IPOW... The writer's revenge: writing about old hurts.
Cherry

Whose Ark?

Inspired by a Postsecret card.
Cherry

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.
Cherry

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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