Cheryl Diane Parkinson PhD
Bio
Dr. Cheryl Diane Parkinson is a Caribbean British writer/educator living in Norfolk, UK. Her publishing history includes a nonfiction article Racial Biases in Education (2021). Her books, Maya and Berthas are available on Amazon.
Stories (6)
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Surviving Death
Noise filled Marla’s mind. Thousands of voices overlapped in a cacophony of a screaming white roar, crashing around in her head; confusing her senses as she lay frozen in bed in the dead of night. A crushing weight squeezed her chest. She wheezed. Her whistling breath quietly echoed in the still of the room. Panic exploded inside her and the bedroom walls began to close in.
By Cheryl Diane Parkinson PhD3 years ago in Fiction
Beyond the Binary
Ashton When I was born, I had blue eyes. That much is certain. Blue is for boys isn’t it? But then again, it’s never that simple. The one who should've known, apparently didn’t. A mother knows. A mother has an instinct. Don’t know what happened to my mother. Perhaps she developed Ostrich Syndrome.
By Cheryl Diane Parkinson PhD3 years ago in Fiction
Sun-stone Breadcrumbs
Sun-Stone Breadcrumbs Benjamin Brice's biggest mistake was that he ran. His fat duck-like legs, tried to waddle off in an escape as soon as he saw B coming, who guffawed at the ludicrous sight, and with minimum effort stuck out a foot and tripped him up. If he wasn't so fat, he probably wouldn't have fallen as hard as he did. Girls from school walking past, snorted with laughter at the sight of his white Y fronts slipping down his moon-of-bottom. Feeling a mixture of embarrassment and pain, flushing red, he clumsily pulled himself up and his trousers to cover his modesty.
By Cheryl Diane Parkinson PhD3 years ago in Families
The Return
When she heard his sonorous voice, her knees crumpled. She had to sit. He told her he had something to say. He couldn’t do it by phone. She said yes, she would be there. It had been such a long time. All the things you need to say to someone you no longer see; that had previously crowded her mind, had escaped – she knew she wouldn’t go.
By Cheryl Diane Parkinson PhD3 years ago in Fiction
A Jar of Teeth
A Jar of Teeth Teeth are funny. They mean different things to different people. Once, when I was younger, I met this boy called Charles. Which may or may not have been his real name. Charles loved his teeth. Perhaps more than what was considered normal. Skin was black as coal, his teeth glowed white, framed by his wide smile. Row upon row of polished white teeth crammed his mouth like pearl peas in a dark pod. I didn’t trust that smile, but I couldn’t stop staring.
By Cheryl Diane Parkinson PhD3 years ago in Fiction
