Cherrypicked stories

Sometimes I enjoy writing or trying to write pieces for children more than I do writing for "adults". I hope that's neither good nor bad. Please let me know which ones you like or do not like(or that your kid likes).

It's her suicide; I can't stop thinking about it. My mind appears to have latched onto it, locked tight. I wonder how it must have felt for her, those last few hours, minutes¦ and then the last few days, of course, perhaps even months, years: was it a spur of the moment kind of thing? Or had events in her life been leading up to that moment for a long time? I wonder how her life must have been. I wonder what thoughts were going through her head when¦

I wish I had told you, not to. That it didn't matter if you bit back, rifled through anothers things

It was as majestic as ever. Dominant and empowering, it was so magnificent it was cried over and lauded with superlatives. Before church, the worshippers began to gather in the soft sheep-white snow, rejoicing in its alpine beauty.

So there I was, on the phone with the most popular girl in school, at 11. "Sorry I'm calling so late. I forgot what the math homework was and she's gonna kill me if I don't hand it in again." "Oh," Ok, I was really disappointed. People just use me. Noboy likes me. "Ok, so that's not the reason I'm calling. You see, there's gonna be a concert Friday, My Chemical Romance'll be playing, and I wanted to know if you want to come with me..." The walking angel asked me to the concert I was trying to prevent. So what was I supposed to say? "Sure," my plans were ruined. "Great, I'll see you tomorrow!" a dead phone line rang in my ear as I stood there in disbelief. Disbelief that she asked me, it was probably a prank, she doesn't like me, nobody does, and disbelief that I accepted.

Christmas is a seaside cityscape with A fair for the children only: Blackpool illuminations, Kiss-me-quick mistletoe, Rides on the grey clapped-out Donkey...

You have been warned ...

For lunch she wore her gold corset under a jacket just a little bow showing He couldnt eat Her mouth drew his eyes held them shape ,softness laughter He had once at the station told her how he wanted

'Cover' of "About A Boy" by Nick Hornby.