My Cardboard Balcony

The Moons by Belinda Roddie When the light caught on my overstrung fingers, it was like I was balancing two somber nickels on my cuticles, watching the glowing craters pop and fester in the night sky. My father brought me a bowl of something to drink, and we watched the pair of rocky eyes swivel in a murky blue dreamscape, trying to dance but having no feet to coordinate their steps with. I sipped from the wooden mouth in my hands and tasted a hot star on my tongue, and I knew that with this in my belly, the sun would burn extra bright and make up for the frost developed under my boots by the hostile double evening of celestial confusion.

Three officers had been commissioned to protect the Hades Mansion, which was the largest, flashiest, and of course most targeted estate in the entire city. Its owner, a bloated belly of a man with the stereotypical walrus mustache, asked for one of the officers to stay in front of the door of his room, in order to feel more protected. Officer Tandy had never seen the man's daughter roll her eyes so violently.

The wreath on Salvador's door was, I kid you not, neon purple. And of course, Rory was more than confused by it. "You trying to tell us something here, Sal?" she asked with an arched eyebrow as Salvador passed around full glasses of wine. "Yes - that Christmas needs more purple in it," he replied. "Now shut up and enjoy your carbonated beverage." I certainly enjoyed mine. Cider was a million times better than egg nog.

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...