Committed writers dedicated to working together to produce excellent poems, short stories, drama, life writing, and creative non-fiction

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Tuesday 23 August 2011

Treyarnon Bay

The clifftop is one whole field away from the campsite, but at night
it sounds nearer. My granny said that once a boy playing with friends
leapt over a low wall to hide, and fell down into nothing. My mum
said, there are cliffs where you can’t see them.

© R. Rushworth
All rights reserved

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