My Cardboard Balcony

Ahhhh, Valentine's Day. The first one I ever actually spent with my girlfriend in person. Where do I even begin? Welp, I went to work, then gave my girlfriend a cute blanket with a kitten hoody, then promptly screwed up on getting her flowers for her opening night performing with Marin Onstage. And tomorrow we're going to have a late Valentine's Day brunch that will most likely include mimosas. Because I love my girlfriend very, very, very, very, very, very much. ...That was easy. I'm going to bed. Writer's Quotation of the Night: Writing fiction is the act of weaving a series of lies to arrive at a greater truth. - Khaled Hosseini Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone. Addendum: Okay, so one thing I should mention to my handful of readers is that I will be in Cazadero from Monday until Wednesday of next week, meaning I will not be putting up OneWord blurbs for Monday and Tuesday and I will be putting up Poet Corner poems a little late in the...

"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 Thirteen by Belinda Roddie “Adriana?” “Yeah?” “Have you ever thought of getting a real job?” Directed pause before the next line. It gives the statement undesirable tension. Cross upstage, begin the conversation. “That’s a weird question. Is my current job imaginary?” “No, I mean…maybe a job where you don’t have to ju...

Jodie's predictable sadness on Valentine's Day was offset, albeit temporarily, by the heart-shaped box of chocolates that she grazed on every time her workload became lighter at the office. The candy was, of course, not bequeathed by anyone romantic. It was her mother, in fact, who bestowed upon her single daughter the sticky sweets that she indulged in every February. Her friend Tanya with overly curly hair had invited her out for drinks for Valentine's Day, but Jodie, of course, refused.

The Tavern's Lights by Belinda Roddie The tavern's lights were on at three am, so I stumbled in to hear a banjo and an accordion squealing a reel in the corner, while three men drank tall pints beside the bar. The bartender was young and lithe, her red hair falling in crisp drapes across the shoulders of her uniform. I sat on the stool closest to the wall and asked if she could spare me a cider. "I have four dollars in my pocket." She nodded and passed a bottle, forgoing the glass. I said, "So you're open pretty late for a bar." She smiled, not speaking, while the musicians sang of the Emerald Isle.

Today, you were defined as a figurehead of the rebellion. You wore a plastic crown as a form of irony and directed the legions to rally against the fence with wooden pitchforks and unlit torches. You told them to burn down the churches with the heat of their eyes, and directed them to stomp their feet on the pavement hard enough as if to cause an earthquake when the king went by. You made yourself a throne from a broken toilet bowl, where you sat and read Time Magazine as the swarms shook off their exoskeletons in the cold and lunged for the throat.

Mint, Coconut, and Peanut Butter by Belinda Roddie A Girl Scout came to my house one day and sweetly rang the bell. As soon as I spotted the green sash, the knee-high socks, and the adorable little beret, I was off my couch in a flash, leaving the Mario Party game I was sharing with my friends behind. I opened the door to hear the nine-to-ten-year-old girl ask, "Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?" Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies. Would you. Like to. Buy. Cookies. Great. Cookies. Cook-aaaaaaaaays. I blinked once. Then twice. Then folded my arms across my purple flannel, slightly salsa-stained shirt, eyeing the noble little cookie trooper cautiously as she hovered in anticipation on my porch, the obligatory red wagon squeaking beneath the weight of her treasure - countless neon boxes of mint, coconut, and peanut butter goodness that waited to be torn into and emptied in about a half hour. And I, very calmly, not accusat...

"For my next parlor trick," the little magician enunciated, "I will make all your homework disappear!" "Oh, please don't do that," grumbled Patrick. "Missus Reynolds would kill me." But Matthew was eager to volunteer, if only because he was behind a week in terms of book reports, math assignments, and creative writing prompts. The juvenile trickster was eager to take on the enormous stack of paper.