My Cardboard Balcony

Humming by Belinda Roddie When you strike a chord in your throat and keep a melody going absolutely nowhere.

"Sand castle is two words, not one," snapped Olivia as she read her sister's essay. "Yeah, but my paper needs to be five hundred words maximum. If I make it two words, it's five hundred one." Olivia sighed. "Is your beach story so important that you have to combine words together so you can include every detail?" "Yes!" barked her sister. "You cannot tell me that my seeing two sea lions off the coast is not worth being in this essay!"

The fourteenth disciple of the prophet Asclare was a tall woman with shaggy hair that grew in bushes around the nape of her neck. She walked with broad shoes oversized for her feet, dressed in her father's robe, and carried a walking stick that she did not need. And when it got dark, she was the one to prepare the fire, stir the pot counter-clockwise in order to heat the stew, and kneel down beside the prophet as he was falling asleep to massage the big toes on his feet.

by Belinda Roddie Children: Fresh, Ripe, Vegan That was what the sign said outside the small grocery store, where Delta Abrams went to speak with the person in charge. That person, in question, was Farley Dexter Mantel IX, whose father, the VIII, had recently died in a freak fork accident in the kitchen. "I have a complaint regarding your product," Delta declared. Farley looked up from where he was cutting pretty airglossed ladies out of a magazine and wrinkled his nose. "Concerning...?" "False advertising." The woman thrust her finger at the sign. "You say that the children you sell are vegan." "They are." "Bull. They're children." "I understand that," said Farley. Delta tried very hard to control her temper. "They're meat, for God's sake!" The store owner frowned. "I don't follow." "Children! Flesh! Meat!" Delta spat. "Imagi...

I got an A for creativity, but not for productivity. I could come up with ideas a-plenty, but I couldn't be arsed to commit to any of them. I had the blueprint, but not the energy. The plan, but not the crew. I was, in every sense of the word, the visionary of the team. So when it came time for us to commit to the government-wide reform project, I was the mastermind. But everyone else who enforced it - they were the ones who got the seats of power, while I hovered in the back, melting in with the shadows.

We opened the bookstore to the public on Monday, and reception, so far, has been incredibly positive. I can say with utter sincerity that I really like my job, even though I was skeptical as to whether or not I'd get bored of it. The truth is, working with the public and working with books is a great combination for me, and while it's not a teaching job, it's a job that allows me to promote reading and independent bookstores to a large city in my county, which is fantastic, if you ask me. So far, I am averaging about 25-30 hours a week working at the store. While that's still not ideal, it's a lot better than I expected, so I just have to be careful about my spending and budgeting. I'm having a blast with my coworkers despite my occasional slip-ups at the register since, well, I'm still learning. About ninety-five percent of the customers, which include a couple of local authors who have swung by and signed the books of theirs that we have on hand, are an ...

Deleted Scenes by Belinda Roddie FADE IN: August. “You are going to be my Princess Charming. And I am going to be your Snow White.” That’s what you said to me over the white film around the brim of your cup. I stirred the whipped cream in my hot chocolate until it nearly turned orange. Whisked ember gratitude in Styrofoam. Asiago bagel with cream cheese. Simple aromas caught in the cliff of my throat. You were going to be trouble for me. So much trouble. You were dressed in purple again, sequins. I couldn’t get enough of it. Couldn’t get enough of the way your smile spiked the air and made me drunk on oxygen, heaving, slippery hands against slippery wood, the mosaic of freelance well-wishers dripping from the tell-tale walls. “Have you ever loved a man?” “No.” “Why not?” Questions. Cheap discourse. A silver dollar you found in your pocket, waiting to be squandered. The conversation was only over when you said it was over. FADE OUT. FADE IN: November. W...