Forbidden Fruit

By Glynis Goyns

Banned from the vegetable patch, we were tempted by two laden cherry trees. The nuns were in chapel. The fruit was ripe. The time was right.

“I can stuff the most cherries in my mouth,” I boasted clambering into a tree. “Keep the pips as proof,” I said, guzzling fruit. No more words. Cheeks swollen with the evidence.

Absorbed, we missed approaching footsteps. “What are you doing?” demanded Sister Hildegard.

Wide-eyed, I choked as a pip lodged in my windpipe. Splattering cherries, I fell at her feet struggling to breathe. Fiercely, she thumped my back.

“Forbidden fruit!” she smirked with satisfaction.