Robin 1, an Introduction


by Chevy Checker <Chevychecker@yahoo.com>

This is the first story I'm writing for this archive, and I'm planning not to make this the last one. I hope you'll enjoy it, and am looking forward to your comments. For this first series of stories, let's pay our attention to our main character Robin Bridges.

Hello to you all, my name is Robin Bridges, and I am here to tell you some stories I think you might find interesting. Let's start at the very beginning.

When I was born, my father had already died 2 months before my birth. That left my mother to take care of me on my own. It worked out well for the first 3 years, but after that she became more and more depressed. It went rapidly, because when I was 3 and a half years old, she committed suicide. Of course I didn't know what was going on, I only missed her.

Now the story of my further life wasn't as bad as the first 4 years. From my fifth until my 10th year I lived in three foster homes. The first two I had to leave because the families ran out of money to take care of me. I had fun there, having several brothers and sisters to play with and never lacking any attention or love.

The third year however I had to leave because the father of the house, Mr Roberts, became addicted to alcohol, which made him neglect his family, sometimes he didn't show up for weeks. The mother wasn't able to take care of both me and my step-sisters, and therefore she too decided to get rid of me. And although I had as much fun there as in the other two families and behaved like any normal boy, the social worker suddenly decided that I was a 'problematic case', a problem Child. He decided that just by looking at my file and noticing that this was my 3rd house I was made to leave. And the rules said that made me a problem child.

Fortunately, for them, they had a solutions for problem childs. Morton, a huge boys house where over 400 problematic boys spend their childhood. Fortunately, for me, Morton was full, they'd reached their maximum capacity.

Therefore I was made to go to a place that changed my childhood: The Grasshills. The grasshills wasn't any foster home, it was a medium-size foster community, located in a beautiful rural area. I didn't know what that meant, but I was soon to find out.

I was temporarily living at a foster home, when the social workers' car came to pick me up. He grabbed me by the hand and said:

"Well Robin, are you ready to get to your new home?"

I simply nodded, not knowing what to expect. But I was sure it wouldn't be as good as with my last three foster homes. I walked at his side to his Volvo, where he handed me a small brochure about The Grasshills.

"Here, for in the car."

I read the brochure. It explained that The Grasshills consisted of 20 families all consisting of a mother, a father and 3 to 5 children. It also had a mixed-gender school, but only for children from 7 to 14, older children had to go to the local high-school in the nearby village, Strawville.

Grasshills also had a grocery store, a small police department (2 officers), a community home, a church, a swimming pool, a soccer club, a small lake and a doctor's office. It looked alright to me.

I asked the social worker how long the drive would be and he told me we would be driving for another 4 hours.

I wanted to drop the brochure, but then I noticed a few key-words on the back of the brochure. It said: our community lives by the next 10 keywords:

Frienship, Love, Care, Discipline, Personal development, Religion, Punishment, Communication, Respect and Corporal Punishment...

To be continued.


More stories by Chevy Checker