Olivia Robinson
Bio
too little to say, too much time
Achievements (1)
Stories (7/0)
The Silent Train
In-between me and my freedom, there's a wooded labyrinth of blood and tears, hunger and fear. Treacherous waters meet those who make it through, rushing rapids for the desperate or a river frozen over for the brave. On the other side, my freedom sits mockingly atop a steep grassy hill. With the confederacy a river's width behind me, along with the souls of which came before me, I am now free.
By Olivia Robinson2 years ago in Fiction
- Top Story - September 2021
Supernanny Top Story - September 2021
I left my small world and all of its comforts the summer I turned eighteen. My parents would tell it differently, but I had a burning lust for life, and I could no longer stay within a cardboard box setting fire to it over and over. I planned meticulously for months, and when the day came, I hopped on a plane, landing in New York City. It was everything except traditional and absolutely nothing like The Carrie Diaries, but it was mine, and I felt free. The jump came with what seemed an endless fountain of struggles, but I could finally breathe.
By Olivia Robinson3 years ago in Journal
Reverie
At first, my life seemed a fair trade for the promise of everlasting fame. To live in the hearts of all was a gift bestowed upon me from the Gods. Even if I had the mind to refuse, prophecy left me bound at the heel and wrapped in immortality. Perhaps the promise of eternal life would be enough for a mortal, but what was life without the adoration and praise of every Greek man, woman, and child? They will sing my name until the end of time. Until the world goes up in flames, leaving only ash and dust. And tell tales of the quickness of my legs and the prowess behind my spear, which would inevitably guide Myrmidon men to war. Despite my mother's desperate pleas, Zeus allowed her to be seized by my father, king of the Myrmidons. To quiver in the guise of destiny would be cowardly and a waste of my talents. I would undoubtedly wither into a nameless, barren soul. Though I was grateful for my 'half-god' status, my mortality often left me weighing the worth, but to speak in such a way would be an insult to the Gods. So to keep my mother's wrath at bay, I learned to keep my head high and chest puffed forward.
By Olivia Robinson3 years ago in Fiction
Adrift
The note first appeared on May 15, 1996. I remember this precisely because it was graduation day. I hadn't had any grand plans like some of the others. I would work at the docks without complaining like my dad did and come home to take care of my nana as he did with papa. Times like this made me wonder how life would be different if he were still around. Or if my mother had stuck around past my 3rd birthday. But that way of thinking is what turns you sour, and I learned early on that fairytales were just that; made-up stories meant to make the travesties of life easier to cope with. I much prefer my truth al a carte. The bitter taste of knowing hits you hard and all at once, but it ebbs just as fast.
By Olivia Robinson3 years ago in Fiction
- Winner of True Colors Challenge