My Cardboard Balcony

A Pillow Made of Ice by Belinda Roddie A pillow made of ice was brought to me for my slumber within the grand palace. It turned to icicles against my face while somber morning fiercely broke upon my frozen brow. The blankets on my back became the snow outside, and I shivered as my prince stumbled through the door, drunk as can be, with a fair maiden clinging to his belt. His eyes were melting brown and gold. Their gaze did not focus on me at all. He snored against a pillow stuffed with fine feathers, while I turned into winter mist. A pillow made of ice was brought to me so I would not smother the king-to-be.

The cacti grew in the winter snow. The bears were lumbering in the tundra. Dry grass growing red roses in autumn. Leaves falling in the blazing heat. I filled a mug with cocoa and sat on the porch, watching the rainbow in the sky melt the frost away. My skin had grown tough and very, very dark. My eyes were dusted silver instead of river blue. This was the way life worked now.