My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie Don't go into the light. At least, that's what she said. She preferred the dark - the shadows, like shawls about her shoulders. The sun burned her skin, caused boils and blisters to grow. She felt faint in anything but the glow of the moon. She bathed herself in seaweed and saltwater; nothing soothed her skin better. And when she was done, she painted her body with starlight. Constellations wove themselves between her toes like wet spider webbing and stayed there overnight. And when her followers avoided the light, they became creepy crawlers, too. This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.

Joseph tried to steer the boat, but Joseph had no sense of direction. So Joseph wound up sailing us east instead of obviously going west. I guess Joseph had no idea where exactly the sun set. So we wound up sitting on an island eating raw crab, because Joseph was inept at everything, including managing a vessel on the ocean. Oh, well. At least Joseph was handsome. And very effective at sexy times in a makeshift hammock.