Cheryl Wilson 

Once Upon a Time 

In the single fronted house in Mansfield Street 

lived the five of us kids with mum and dad. 

In the dim and pokey lounge room dad’s book case was out of bounds. 

He warned me Not to touch a certain book 

& naturally, my being the eldest, I ignored him and did 

it was irresistible; slightly weighty 

hard cover smooth to the touch, and glossy black and white photos to go with the text 

it may have been called Pictorial War.

I open it 

inside I see 

a baby laying in a box 

his first words stifled by a bomb. 

His eyelids sealed tight over eyes that an hour ago – or even a day –

were shining and bright like my littlest sister’s eyes as she laughs in her cot

and I slam the book shut 

I hate war. 

Moving Pictures

She emerges from the mouth of the cave. 

Wearing a dress made of thin cotton stuff.  Her feet are bare.  They must be strong. 

As she moves, their long flat imprints appear on the red earth behind her. 

She stands.  Silent and still.  Silhouetted against the cave, the huge boulders and 

the thin scratchy sky.  She captures me with her broad cheekbones, her deep 

luminous eyes.  The first black woman I see. 

Note from Cheryl  

Moving Pictures: Was inspired by the 1955 Australian Film Jedda.  Set in Australian outback, young Aboriginal girl Jedda finds herself torn between her indigenous roots and the prejudiced white society, unable to fully embrace either culture.

Copyright Cheryl Wilson, May 2025. All rights reserved; this intellectual property belongs solely to Cheryl Wilson.

About Cheryl Wilson 

Writing stories may be a way of life or as an escape from real life. I enjoy inventing characters and placing them in surroundings once familiar to me – especially our inner northern suburbs during the seventies. I also write shorter pieces about real people who are closer to my heart.