A Lady with a Pen
Bio
Caroline Robertson's, books are beloved by both adults and children alike for their illustrations and engaging stories. She takes readers on an adventure, giving them the opportunity to explore different cultures, settings, and characters.
Stories (58/0)
The Hidden Fixer
The Hidden Fixer Can adults hide under the bed too? I yearn to escape, to retreat, or simply vanish from existence. The thought of not being a concern to anyone consumes me. If only I could disappear without a trace, leaving behind the burdens that weigh me down. Since childhood, whenever I made mistakes, an overwhelming urge to hide beneath my bed would take hold of me. In those moments, I longed to shrink myself into insignificance, to become invisible to the world. I desired to block out my senses, to be enveloped in darkness and white noise, where the chaos of life couldn't reach me. The weight of expectations and judgments, both external and self-imposed, suffocates me, urging me to seek refuge in solitude.
By A Lady with a Pen3 days ago in Confessions
Welcome Home
Welcome Home "Ashley's culinary skills meet her sensual dance moves" I'm dancing in the kitchen, as I do every day at this time, while I prepare a healthy meal for our family. I'm making your favourite sweet and sour meatballs using my great aunt's recipe today.
By A Lady with a Pen4 days ago in Filthy
My First Step into the Realm of Fan Fiction"
1st Piece My First Step into the Realm of Fan Fiction" My first piece was not an assignment; I wrote it when I was just ten years old. I remember sitting at the family computer in our shared workspace, eagerly waiting as Microsoft Office slowly loaded, the familiar chime signalling its launch. Surprisingly, despite my young age, I found myself quite adept at typing, thanks to a children's game that had taught me basic computer and school skills. I would spend hours engrossed in playing the typing game, my small hands expertly navigating the keyboard, eagerly pressing the letters that matched the spooky purple-blue flying letter creatures descending on the screen.
By A Lady with a Pen17 days ago in Confessions
Struggling Dawn
I tremble with overwhelming distress as waves of heaviness and nausea course through my body. A sharp, pulsating pain in my right temple forces me to tightly close my eye, seeking relief from the throbbing ache. Perspiration covers me as I shake uncontrollably, my trembling hands unable to find solace. My thoughts scatter like confetti in the wind, leaving me pondering trivial matters amidst the chaos of my inner turmoil. Did Evie receive her new water bottle? Was there enough ice in her lunchbox to keep her meatballs cool and delicious? In just seven short hours, I will again be responsible for her well-being, nurturing her tender heart and guiding her curious mind. But as I stand here, consumed by my own internal struggle, doubts creep in. Was I too harsh in my delivery? After all, she is only four years old, and I must remind myself of her tender age and innocence. Yet, my focus wavers and my breaths become laboured, as if the world's weight rests upon my chest. In these moments, I yearn to hide, to escape the overwhelming torrent of emotions that threaten to engulf me. My eyes struggle to stay open, heavy with the weight of exhaustion, yet my entire being is consumed by fear that I cannot control or escape.
By A Lady with a Pen20 days ago in Confessions
Teaching Him
Teaching Him Their paths crossed for the first time early in the day at a local coffee shop. In a classic "meet cute," she accidentally grabbed his latte, and he reluctantly sipped her black coffee. This humorous exchange led them to share a table, their drinks, and a morning filled with engaging conversation. During their chat, he confessed something he had never admitted before: he had never performed oral sex on a woman.
By A Lady with a Pen22 days ago in Filthy
Self-Reflection
In the mirror, I see the dance of time and self-perception. Freckles, legacies of sun-soaked days, dot my skin. My hair, styled and sun-bleached, rebels with a frizzy will. I notice the signs of time's passage - the thinning of my lips, the laugh lines cradling my sparkling blue eyes, marked by a rogue dimple on my left cheek. I am the person in the mirror, yet also not. The reflection is my future self, my mind tethered to the past, creating a disorienting dichotomy.
By A Lady with a Penabout a month ago in Fiction
