My Cardboard Balcony

Once Upon A Blue Moon by Belinda Roddie Once upon a blue moon, I caught a fish that spoke to me as I sat on the grass, promising me that he would grant a wish to me, as if I were a simple ass who would believe anything. I declined and tossed the scaly thing back to the sea, where it struggled against a wave of brine and cursed and spat, its anger geared toward me, but I did not heed its foul words. I swore not to rely on seafood to improve my life, or prevent me from a dull bore of an existence, or to swiftly move my soul into action. No, I would not devote my time to a bass or a cod.

I stood in front of the preacher's crowd, and every congregant began to glow. They glowed red for Christ's passion and blue for Mother Mary's mood, and gold for monarchs' piety and silver for peasants' real dedication. I took the new theses and hammered them on Father Warren's door, waiting for him to read them. But they were in ancient tongues, and as I was afflicted, my body convulsed with the Holy Spirit.