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.
Achievements (1)
Stories (69/0)
Was I raped?
I met a boy once at a party. I was having a tough week. My mother was in the hospital, my father was away for work, and my brother was a camp counsellor for the summer. I spent my days studying, working or with my mom—usually all three in one day.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Confessions
A memory
Dear Self, I had this memory of us when you were younger. I close my eyes, and I can smell the salt air and the tightness of the two French braids we had carefully weaved down either side of our head. It's still early enough that the morning dew has soaked through our Converse sneakers.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Poets
Shite Flight
I looked anxiously at the dial and prayed it would last. I pushed the stewardess call button. It had become dark while the plane circled over Nova Scotia, waiting for a break in the fog so that the flight could land. The crew has dimmed the cabin's lights in hopes the passengers will calm down, accept their situation and perhaps fall asleep. I made eye contact with my husband's concerned face. The little wrinkles around his eyes were now visible, worry lines; he hadn't had them before, and they had arrived quickly on his young face in the last year.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Fiction
Entrapped
A nightmare in my mirror The mirror showed a reflection that was not my own. They'd done this to me, changing everything. I move closer, inspecting; my nose no longer has the slight bump from when my brother hit me with a softball while playing in the yard; my long blonde hair is now short and dark, cut into stylish layers; my eyes, the strange purple colour that always set me apart and made others stare are now a ubiquitous shade of blue; the shape of my eyes has changed as well, they used to be large round saucers, and now they have taken on an oblong shape; my cheekbones are higher, more visible and my chin now has a soft point versus the flat heart shape I had before. I reach up and touch my face in awe, my fingernails are painted and filed to a perfect pink, and there are no more callouses; they now exhibit the hands of a woman who has never had to work for a living. Instead, I appear delicate and breakable. The clothing they've selected hides my muscular body and the strength in my legs and arms are perfectly covered, creating an essence of ladylike sensibility. My breasts appear to be a cup size larger. I cup them with my hands and feel their full perkiness; that is a nice change.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Horror
Highlander the Cow
“Look, I know I'm just a cow. I do; I know it. I know I don't deserve much. The world has decided I'm not worth the trouble. People don't like to think about who their steak or burger was.” Highland the Cow stopped talking for a moment and blew his bangs up out of his eyes, then glanced up at the camera team expectantly. Highland had agreed to be part of the documentary to talk about his day-to-day life. The reason he accepted was that the documentary maker was an Owl. Owls are well respected. They are intellects and hold symbols in people’s lives. When they're hurt, someone cares for them. When they want to be seen or have something to say, people take notice.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Fiction
The Gift
Under Purple Clouds The first chapter of a magical realism story starts with… Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. It's my favourite time of the day. Tonight, I stand here staring at the sky, taking a moment of peace. He wraps his arms around my waist, kissing my neck and inhaling my scent deeply. “I didn’t think you would make it out in time; you took awhile.”’ I just had a few things I wanted to get done before joining you,” I reply. “ Want a beer?” He asks. “Please,” I sigh.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Fiction