Cheat
Not so long ago, when I was a young boy I made a mistake, just a small mistake mind you. However before I tell you this story we must get one thing straight; I’m not a cheat. I wasn’t born a cheat. I wasn’t raised a cheat and I certainly didn’t mean to cheat!
It was a windy morning in May; my wild blonde hair flopped from side to side like the tongue of a panting dog. Though I was 16 years of age I looked no older than ten. Youthful, innocent, and confident in myself, I handled the stickiest situations with aplomb. “Oh aren’t you an angel- Gabriel”, my mum’s friends would crone whenever they visited. I’d been named after the angel Gabriel due to my angelic looks and what you could call ‘boyish charm’. Nice one mum!
Saturday morning came and I jumped out of my bed like a firework, which had just been set alight. Stuffing my feet into my ancient wellingtons (which were half a size to small) I grabbed my basket and headed out for the Strawberry Fields, ready to harvest the fruit and reap in the money. There was nothing more I liked to do than spend hours in the earthy air surrounded by beautiful plants. Spring had clothed the once naked trees in a light garment of colorful leaves and red strawberries glistened in the emerging sun, sending out a sickly sweet aroma. Entangled in thorny stems strawberries hid themselves. It was early on in the strawberry season and it sometimes proved a bit of a challenge to fill your strawberry basket to the brim. Most of the other boys would tire of picking strawberries and end up deceitfully packing the basket full of leaves, scattering strawberries on top. In all the years I had picked strawberries I was the only one who had never dared to swindle Mr. Abbots.
