My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "Wow, my tongue is sore now," groaned Francis, rubbing her jaw while flapping the limp muscle in and out between her lips. Her brother Raffy rolled his eyes and returned to his bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. "That's what happens when you try to press ice down on it as hard as you can," he muttered. "We should ban you from getting close to the freezer." "Fuck you. My three dollars and twenty-nine cents got you the dairy you're gobbling down right now." Raffy shrugged and returned to his sugary treat. In the corner, I finished counting the mountain of nickels I had saved throughout the years. With any luck, I could get my own gallon of ice cream so my roommates wouldn't be the only ones approaching the chance of getting diabetes in middle age. I stood up and stretched my arms. "Doctor's appointment," I informed Francis and Raffy. "Don't have too much fun with anything frozen....

The entirety of the New World Bible was a lie. Not that it harbored much truth in its Old World model. But the more and more I and the other monks read it, the more we could sense the discrepancies not only within the physical text, but also within the air currents we traveled on as we maneuvered from temple to temple to speak to our Elders. "The world itself argues against this book," I told my comrade. "Yes," she replied.

Hmmm. What to be introspective about. I don't really know. Honestly, all the stuff I've talked about in this month's introspections and last month's introspections are still relevant right now. I'm still living at my apartment, working at my job, celebrating the Christmas season, writing, performing, and growing as a person. I think, at this point, I'm in a comfortable place. And not a static place, either. Christmas is a lovely time for me, a time to relax and cut myself some slack in terms of creative projects. This is the season for me to acknowledge what I've accomplished while learning from what I haven't. So for now? Maybe I'll go easy on some introspection until the new year. Hopefully. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

"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 Four by Belinda Roddie Her name was Emma. Just Emma, not Emily. Her father called her Em, but she wasn’t very fond of it. I expected her to say Watson was her last name. It wasn’t. It was Burking. Slightly more original, I thought. She wanted to know where she could find Ghirardelli Square. I smiled at this. Whether one was a tourist or not, the square had a consist...

No one plays a game of ombre these days, and even if one tried, it will never be quite like our games. It has gotten to such a point that each of the three players have a specific name, designated toward their skills of trickery and cunning. We are, specifically, the Weasel, the Fox, and the Coyote. I am the Coyote. I have won the last five games of ombre in a row.

A Three-Legged Reindeer by Belinda Roddie A three-legged reindeer named Bellvedeer (yes, that was the spelling - ye shall not judge) liked to wear gold bells as he persevered through the snow as it turned to ice and sludge so he could pretend he was at the front, beside Rudolph, pulling the crimson sleigh that belonged to Santa. His friends were blunt and told him there was just simply no way he ever could be on the Christmas team with just three legs. Still, Bellvedeer pressed on, for, like most characters, he had a dream, and through the sleet he hobbled, fearless, strong, on three hooves, clipping, clopping down the hill. So stumbled the reindeer, full of good will.

Within the rusted wheel are three apertures where the light from the corner streams. We don't dare move the thing. When Seamus touches it, it leaves an inexplicably dark red grime on his fingers. "Where did it fall from," he asked, "and how did it wind up in our cabin?" Neither Danni nor I know the answer. As it is now, the cobwebs are beginning to spring. The wheel is not going anywhere any time soon.