My Cardboard Balcony

I wore Max's polo shirt to the park, where I met Stacey. She looked more than a little worse for wear. I wondered how long it had been since she had slept for more than four hours, or eaten a solid, nutritious meal, or managed to find at least an hour or so just to relax. As it happened, I had offered to visit her for said "relaxation" time. Now, the more I looked at her, the more I realized just how unsteady she was. "I'm going to leave here as soon as possible," she told me when I sat down on the bench, "and I'm not looking back."

by Belinda Roddie "This is the last time I'm doing this." "What are you talking about?" "This," replied Jenny. "This whole thing. The arguments, the angry texts, the constant back-and-forths. I'm not dealing with it anymore. Either something changes, or you're on your own." Winston froze in his chair, the half-empty bottle of beer now dangling loosely from his fist. He then suddenly began to laugh. "Cute," he murmured. "And where, my dear, might you turn to?" "Family," Jenny said. "Friends. Loved ones. It will be very easy for me to start over, Winston. You're not necessarily a strong glue holding my life together." "I will make your life a living Hell," growled Winston, his mouth trembling like the dripping snout of an injured animal. "Do you hear me? I will make everything miserable for you." "And the fact that you think that'll make me stay is both ...

Weaving a tapestry so thin that it breaks like a spider web, you feel the planet's essence drain between your fingers and turn into fragile wisps against your skin. You cannot get a hold on what makes life meaningful. The threads are not strong enough. You do not have enough light to work with, and the moon wanes slower than it waxes. Most nights, you are left with a sliver of sight. Other nights, you are swathed in a night so thick that it is almost toxic.

It's been one Hell of a week and a night. No time or energy for any "introspection." Just celebration and fun times and ignoring the more stressful parts of my life. Why settle on the worst when you can focus on the best? My mini-series, "Full of Grace," is two episodes in. I've been writing, improvising, and enjoying the holiday season with friends and loved ones. If I have any more "reflective" thoughts to share, I'll let you know. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Look Out, Charlie! by Belinda Roddie I told him trolls like human flesh. He wouldn't listen.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Add too much pepper to the casserole and watch everyone else sneeze. If you're lucky, the clouds will rise from their nostrils, and you will breathe in those sharp, intoxicating fumes. Spices do nothing but strengthen you. You are not a normal human being. You are an alien. A spicelien. See what I did there? An alien who breathes in pepper. Feels a Hell of a lot better than oxygen.

Red Ornaments by Belinda Roddie Red ornaments bedeck the Christmas tree, glist'ning like rubies when the light hits just right. We partake in festive revelry, the sunset lit like the brightest gold dust that one can find. The glasses of egg nog are passed around, our lips coated with the sweetness of the holiday. Despite fog thickening in the evening, we are snug in our home, gifts ready to be unwrapped and carols to be sung for Christmas Day. For now, however, presents fill the gap around the needles of the tree, where they add to the ambiance of the great lights and ornaments that cast a spell tonight.