Eloise Robertson
Bio
I pull my ideas randomly out of thin air and they materialise on a page. Some may call me a magician.
Achievements (1)
Stories (101/0)
Bittersweet Tower
A woman well into her eighties, Nancy has enjoyed her fair share of sweets in her time. Vanilla slice with thick and creamy filling, her famous caramelised banana split, her Christmas trifle filled with cream, jelly, sponge, custard and a heavy helping of sherry, lollipops, candies, crumbly shortbread biscuits, marshmallows, every Halloween delight under the sun... you name it and she has baked it or eaten it. In fact, her family and friends from the bowling club praise her for her prowess in the kitchen.
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction
The Price of War
“If you are hearing this, it means you have triggered the event. I am sorry, my brother, that it has come to this. Honestly, even though I know it is for the best, I still hope you never hear this message. This plan was my idea, one born from desperation. I found a quote from a woman from Earth that I hope you understand, now. 'The cost of war is like an immeasurable tremor that knows no borders, its shockwaves reverberating across the world resulting in universal suffering.' You‘ve destroyed too much for me not to try this, but you’re still my brother... and I love you. Goodbye. End message.”
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction
The Midnight Train
The train station was a decrepit building with a veranda shading the platform overlooking the tracks. Beyond the tracks was only a glowing, snow-covered field. Shadows of trees in the distance created a black wall of darkness that the moon’s light could not penetrate. The beginning of winter struck when I first sat on the wooden bench, watching the travelers take the night train.
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction
Ape See, Ape Do
The heavy rain was deafening on the truck’s loose roof paneling but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise of the old diesel engine screaming in protest as Wyatt forced it into the next stiff gear. Wyatt bounced jarringly in his seat as he slid around a corner followed by the stress-inducing sound of cargo tumbling in the back of the truck. Either the contents fell or the truck's panels had finally given out. He hoped it wasn’t the cargo; he couldn’t afford more truck repairs but losing the product would mean he wouldn't be paid either. His phone glowed on the dashboard as his destination came into view: a large theatre, painted red, trimmed with gold and illuminated by glowing signs of upcoming acts. Wyatt picked up his phone.
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction
Deference Due
The great ornate hall was filled with men beyond their prime, their finest thick suits hanging from their broad shoulders along with their ties choking them in the humid space. The quiet rumble of words was silenced by the sound of confident footsteps stalking through the door from the side of the stage, echoing through the hall. As the auctioneer crossed the stage the potential buyers comfortably resumed their murmurings, disregarding the presentation platform until the proceedings were scheduled to begin.
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction
The Library Voyeur
My dearest readers, how kind of you to join me on this fine evening. What am I doing here and what are we observing - you ask? Well, we are here for my favourite subject. Don’t be fooled by how ordinary he looks; I promise you he is worth the watch.
By Eloise Robertson 3 years ago in Fiction
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