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E.J. Robison
Bio
Ever since I could first form words and hold a pen, I've been telling stories—from the sloppily scrawled tales about getting ice cream with my exotic pets to full-blown sci-fi and fantasy epics. Soli Deo gloria!
Stories (15/0)
Beneath the Mask
Breathe in. Breathe out. Erix tried his best to breathe steadily through his mask while a million other thoughts flashed through his mind. Am I walking too much like myself? Is the mask enough to hide my face? What if Ov’oks suddenly developed X-ray vision? Could someone have an X-ray scanner?!
By E.J. Robisonabout a year ago in Fiction
Seven in One Blow
Only one person in the world mattered to the village’s little tailor: himself. With every coat he mended, every sock he sewed, the tailor worked knowing that every stitch would help to bring about his own glory and renown. Word spread through his village, and those nearby, that he was the best tailor around. Still, it wasn’t enough. The tailor wanted more.
By E.J. Robisonabout a year ago in Fiction
Ancient Songs Reawakened
If my Spotify hymn playlist were a physical hymnal, it would be worn to pieces by now. Though I grew up in a good Christian household, I was never exposed to all that many hymns aside from a treasured few. There was "Amazing Grace," of course, then "Be Thou My Vision" which I sang with a band in high school. I was vaguely familiar with more popular staples like "Come Thou Fount" and "Tis So Sweet" and could sing along with the tunes, if not the words.
By E.J. Robison2 years ago in Journal
First Cold
Vaughn was pretty sure he’d gotten his coordinates wrong. One moment, he’d been keying in the location of the space station hanging above his home planet Infyllus as he’d done a thousand times before. Sure, Kiefer had thrown a boot at his head as he’d been typing, but his little brother’s antics had never posed a problem before. Now...
By E.J. Robison2 years ago in Fiction
Atonement’s End
Tsarra wondered when home had become the last place she wanted to be. That same old door that had greeted her with a welcoming creak since before she could hold a javelin was now an untrustworthy friend that would proclaim her failings to the whole house as soon as she stepped inside.
By E.J. Robison2 years ago in Fiction
The Lion of Garatoth
The air of war surrounded me. Thousands of boots marching in sync produced an earthquake that rattled my very bones. Shouts mingled together into a raucous cacophony. Though I had no view out of my cramped tent, I could see the soldiers in my mind’s eye: smiling, backs straight, eyes forward. Confident.
By E.J. Robison2 years ago in Fiction
I Boast.
I'll be the first to admit it: I boast. But it probably isn't the kind of boasting you're thinking of. Talking about myself always makes me uncomfortable. I don't know how to receive compliments. I stray as far away from the topic of "me" as much as possible because talking about me, my achievements, and the stuff I have just doesn't feel right.
By E.J. Robison2 years ago in Journal