My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie Gunther was six years old before his mother realized that he was just a sack of potatoes. Granted, his sister was a giant cucumber, while his older brother had won first prize for biggest watermelon at the county fair. And anyway, Gunther's father was a box of saltine crackers. Ms. Dreyfuss had been coping with the loss of her family pet - a sweet little old Corgi named Sir Lawrence Addley Howard Charlemagne IV, who had always kept her company on her little front porch in front of her little mobular home. There had been no Sir Lawrence Addley Howard Charlemagne III, or II, or even I. The number four - especially in roman numeral form - just pleased Ms. Dreyfuss to no end. So after burying the poor old fluffy man in the yard with a sprig of fresh lilies (which, ironically, could be toxic to both dogs and cats, but the Corgi was already dead, so what did it matter?), Ms. Dreyfuss created her own little family. For some time, she even carried around a pillow un...

In my experience, I had never come across a werewolf. Tonight was no exception. No, instead I was confronting rapidly spawning legions of seemingly rabid llamas. Granted, this was post-apocalyptic Cusco, deep in the plague-ravaged valleys of what was once the beautiful country of Peru. The thing was, I was hoping to go to Machu Picchu to see if something could be re-established. I found llamas instead.

So. It's 2013. We didn't die in a pseudo-apocalypse, we're dealing with a pretty inept Congress, and I frankly am never giving up the occasional drink, stroke of a pen, or obsessive editing mindset as I peruse my already completed works. Yes, 2012 has been a very productive year for me, writing-wise and otherwise. I have been a member of AmeriCorps since August of 2012, promoting literacy for second grade girls who are Spanish speakers and English learners. I have written two novels in one year (one in a month, one in eight days). I have never ceased in filling this blog space with new and up to date pieces of poetry, random sloppy pieces of fiction, and short tidbits influenced by the structure and format of OneWord.com. I have been with my girlfriend for over a year and a half now. I still live at home, but I'm looking at graduate and credential programs now to further my teaching and writing careers. All in all, not bad for a year's work. Really. I'm pret...

Big Ben at Eight O'Clock by Belinda Roddie “Where were you when Big Benny stopped ticking?” Asked an old Irish farmer to a lad on the street, “They say that it’s the heart of London, So what could’ve happened when it stopped its beat?”   “I was sleeping with my brother’s wife when Benny stopped ticking,” The young rascal casually in his coarse brogue replied, “So I suppose I wasn’t under any severe jurisdiction If the very heart, therefore the soul, of London had died.”   “Where were you when Big Benny stopped ticking?” Asked the lad to a schoolgirl aboard an Oxford headed train, “If the song that he sings signifies time’s passing, Does it mean there is no longer a law to the day?”   “I was trapped under my headmaster’s stare when Benny stopped ticking,” The schoolgirl did answer, with her eyes to the heavens, “And I suppose, by the duration of it, it may not be a piece of fiction As it seemed that all was lost in...

"Oh, Lord." "What?" "Jesus Christ." "What? WHAT?" Darren was very white. The lantern he was scratching at was growing dimmer and dimmer. "I'm losing oil," he told me in a slippery, dampened voice. "We're going to be dropped into blackness any second." "Well, do something about it!" I snarled. The cold was getting to me. It was eating away at my ears.

You Can't Please Ev'rybody by Belinda Roddie You can't please ev'rybody, not even your own flesh and blood sometimes. Sure, you try to satisfy the gnawing, pervasive desires and expectations of your friends and next of kin. But usually, you find that expectations are painfully vague and constantly change with the ooze of time seeping out from behind your eyes and mind. No, sometimes you must turn to some simple solutions to accommodate for those who do not ever seem to be appeased by what you do and what you cannot do. No matter - some will always be happy with you. Others will never set you free.

After Vincent placed the flowers in the middle of the table, he went back to the kitchen to finish glazing the ham. Sitting in the corner with a crossword bunched up against her chest, Emma busily toiled over whether or not 32-down was "wise" or "keen." If only she knew what the name of King Charlie's second cousin was for the across.