My Cardboard Balcony

Meanwhile, near the opposite flank of the pub, a fight over which local brew was the best brew was bubbling as thick and frothy as the stuff in Syndicum's tankard. Two burly women, their curls crowned with Stetsons, argued loudly while bashing their fists on the table, while their scrawnier, scummier friend with the mutton chops insisted that there was only one way to solve the tiff. "Arm wrestling?" "Arm wrestling."

by Belinda Roddie "A rail spike and a horse does not a unicorn make." "I know, Aaron, but that's the closest we're ever going to get to one!" "I cannot see why it is so necessary for your friends to have a unicorn at their wedding." "Sure you can! Unicorns are fabulous. They're fabulous. End of story." "Pass me the Jack, John." "Wouldn't you want a unicorn at our wedding?" "John! Knock it off!" "God, after all the stuff we've done together, you still get queasy about a couple of jokes." "Okay, okay, sorry." "..." "..." "..." "...Okay, yes, I'd like to have a unicorn at my wedding." "See?" " If unicorns were real." "Don't ruin the magic, Aaron. All you have to do is belieeeeeve." "John." "Belieeeeeeeeve." "...

"They called you the Chosen One?" "Yeah." Arvey watched as Quinoni rolled her eyes, lighting up another stogie. "Why? Not exactly a label to be taken seriously?" "The Creeback people," Quinoni explained, "have selected seven Chosen Ones in the past forty years. At this rate, you're the platinum edition." "And the way they coo over you is just adorable," Barkelee added gleefully, raising a glass from where he was seated on a throne beside Mistress Kor.

Because I'm sleepy and not exactly prolific writing-wise, here are a few things I've already done for the ake of the Christmas spirit: 1. Bought and wrapped everyone's presents. 2. Put up an artificial Christmas tree in my apartment. 3. Listened to Christmas carols. 4. Stocked up on peppermint schnapps and Irish cream as a Christmas tradition. 5. Enjoyed indulging in the holiday at my job, as the bookstore is playing the appropriate music and has been decorated in the appropriate. Also, books. 'Tis the season to keep moving. Enjoy, boys and girls.

"Caramel Kisses" is an unfinished novel I began to write back in 2009 and stopped working on in 2010. The two main characters - Adriana Maguire Reynard and Emma Burking - would ultimately be revised for my later completed novella, "The Liffey Is Half-Asleep," in 2011. Several elements of "Liffey" can be found in their original forms in "Caramel Kisses," such as the characters' names, the haiku scene, and Adriana's penchant for writing.  Because of its influence on my later writing, I figured that this story, though incomplete, was worth sharing. Caramel Kisses: Chapter Three by Belinda Roddie She sat by herself in the small coffee shop, reading the San Francisco Chronicle and sipping from a clear cup. I fumbled with my drink and ignored the chocolate leaking in between my fingers because the lid had loosened and it wouldn’t cooperate with my trembling grip. The skin around my joints fused together, warm and sticky and brown and ...

Dolorai Hammer was becoming fatigued in the pursuit of the Garrulous Bandit, and she stopped at the nearest bedraggled hot spot to find a place to stay. The only place in suitable condition was an age-old tavern that kept its beds hot and its beer nearly frozen, and Hammer was more than happy to pull of her hat, sit down, and watch the frosty tap spew. "Not from around here, are you?" asked the tender. "Overused question," Hammer replied.

This Tin Ornament by Belinda Roddie This tin ornament used to look like an elf building a toy, but now it seemed more like a strange, mutated reindeer with an ankle problem. Still, I hung it on the Christmas tree each year because it was the ornament that reminded me most of home. It reminded me of the nights my father and I drank egg nog beside the blinking lights. Of when my mother and I visited the Holiday House down the street, where they passed out candy canes. Of the first time I brought a girl home and kissed her underneath the mistletoe. This mess of an ornament returned me to bliss.