My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "They say there's a magic fish in this river. They also say that he gives out relationship advice on Tuesdays." "That so." Sylvain grinned before lighting a cigarette, letting the violet smoke swirl around her head. "I may have to swing by here again next week, then." The two young women sat by the bank and watched the murky greenish current swish by their feet, occasional spurts of water licking at the toes of their boots. Helena leaned back against the grass and smiled. Of course there was "no magic fish" who gave out relationship advice - it was just a fun twist on an old myth from the town. About two hundred years back, some unfortunate farmer who had eaten the wrong type of mushroom had sworn that a fish had leapt at him and told him it could see the future. That future, allegedly, was the taking over of the United States by the zombified version of Napoleon Bonaparte. "Why do they say the fish gives

Out of sheer desperation, Arvey tugged at the rope and watched the sail billow open like a loose flap of skin, torn and pinkish against the gray sky. Barkelee was looking worse for wear, and no matter how many bandages Mistress Kor wrapped around his abdomen, the blood never seemed to slow its journey down the legs of his breeches. Quinoni kept close to the bow of the small boat, squinting through the mist, as Arvey prayed that they would reach a calmer shore in time.