My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie When Father told us that war was coming, I didn't really know what he meant. He was so much quieter than usual. Like something was scaring him. He told me bad people were coming, but there were bad people here, too. I didn't understand. I asked him who the bad people were...the ones in white or the ones in black. And he said this. "Bad people do bad things. But they try to make it sound like they're doing good." "What bad things?" Hurting people. Killing people. Bad things. Never right. That was what my father said. And the next morning, he was shot while hunting. By a rifle. Used by a bad guy. This was what war really was. And I don't like either side. The prompt for this week's Storyteller was provided by...no one. 

I have plenty of advice. I just choose not to give it to people. Because one way or another, it's not compatible. I don't know exactly how Susan's boyfriend is treating her, or why Hank just can't make friends. I can try to know, or pretend to know. But a pretender doesn't really have real advice to give. Just vignettes and hope. One of which could be false.

Work. Mur. And now, recommendations: Recommended Book: Jar of Fools by Jason Lutes Technically a graphic book, but a fantastic story with simple but beautiful artwork. Recommended Poet: Paul Celan Poignant and frighteningly personal poetry from a man whose parents died in the Holocaust. Read his poems in English and German, and try to find audio of him reciting one of my favorite poems, "Death Fugue." Recommended Music: Ennio Morricone Perhaps most known for his Love Theme, this man has composed the scores of several movies and always tugs at my heartstrings. Recommended Drink before Bed: Bailey's on the rocks Again, not for the underage viewers.   Writer's Quotation of the Night: Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it. ...

My Fine Friend Ricky by Belinda Roddie Ricky is very active. He's one strong and tough guy, but warm in the heart. Whenever he gets into a fight, he never gets licked once. And what's more, he is my best friend. Let me describe how Ricky looks. First of all, his hair is so messy it sticks out in different directions on his head. I always try to make Ricky shampoo, wash, or even just trim his hair, but he never listens to me. Also, people always say he's always in the sun since he's so tan, but I don't agree about that. Lastly, his nails are very long. I offer him a clip every day, but he never cuts his nails. One thing that really gets me is Ricky's teeth. It's like they're all canine teeth, all pointy and sharp. Ricky lives in a cave-like house with no electricity, only flaming torches. He doesn't like electricity, and the fire from the torches keeps him warm. Also, Ricky sleeps in a ragged bed, the blankets made of animal skin and the mattr...

The dog's name was Scout and he was bigger than he should have been. A labrador with a head bigger than my own. Big paws, too. Like whenever he tried to grow into them, they'd just get bigger. He liked to serve as my pillow when I was watching TV, or my tongue towel when I was crying.

I Had A Cat by Belinda Roddie I had a cat. She was a calico who liked to squeak at me throughout the day. When I played games, she'd curl next to my toes and wish for me to pet her as I'd play. She was named after a movie (my pup was named after it too), where life and death and love all intertwined. She'd come on up to my room at night when I calmly slept. And then she'd just sit on the window sill. Her tail swayed like she was standing guard. She was a good cat - I think of her still. I took her premature death very hard. At least we've got Hobbes now - the great big brute who doesn't bite or scratch at all, to boot!

Compassion. That's a word I don't see executed very often these days. You know when you're in a grocery store, looking at all the different brands of butter, wondering just whether or not you want salted or unsalted? And then this little old lady wobbles by with two gallons of milk in her hands, and they're like weights holding her? And you decide to take at least one and help her get to the check-out? It's that easy.