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 (71/0)
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
The Experiment
To Whom It May Concern, I’ve never spent much time thinking about time travel. It’s a theoretical concept; I can’t go back and change events, and if I could, what would I change? There are significant moments in my life, horrible moments, that I wish I never had to live through, but I don’t think they are changeable. Even if they were, I’d be so frightened that I would alter something in my own life and timeline that would take away my now and, most importantly, my family. I could never lose them; nothing is worth the risk.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Fiction
Goodbye
Her death halted time Today, before or after With and without her The loss of my daughter has left my mind bemused. Post-traumatic Stress and Panic Disorders have kept time muddled. Every day, night, and hour are scattered in my brain as I attempt to comprehend if time stands before or after her death. All of my life moments are indexed as either the period with or without her.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Poets
Break Free
Myself and the other passengers are shuffled into the airport through a small doorway in the back of the building. It’s sweltering; I feel sweat running down my spine beneath my red sundress. As I enter the door, I stop short. The room has armed guards at the entrance and small booths, as seen at an old movie theatre, with Custom Agents within. We have no choice but to continue forward, each of us moving into one of the small, confined booths. The agent looks at my passport and begins asking questions in Spanish. I shake my head. The other passengers have quickly moved past the guarded entrance and through the booths smoothly without incident while I remained paralyzed. Another man approaches. He’s armed, wearing a starched green military hat. The men converse for a moment longer, both looking at me. I shift uncomfortably under their gaze.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Fiction
Escape
I’m a published author. I can’t believe that my book is out there in the world, that my thoughts are there for others to read. In fact, the idea that I could write anything that other people would want to read is difficult to believe. But, I have never had high self-esteem.
By A Lady with a Penabout a year ago in Confessions