My Cardboard Balcony

A Dish by Belinda Roddie A dish of fish, and a liter of something sweeter. I fill your bowl with crunch while you debate what you should have for lunch. You've opened a can of salty guilt, as the leftover mushrooms wilt. Here, a spoon will serve you well to feast on cuisine from Hell.

No update on the website today. Let's see what New Year's Eve brings!

Secrets by Belinda Roddie A lot of history is behind that door, the dreaded consequence of stifling past daydreams. Turn the knob, and you may be assaulted.

Elizabeth popped an olive in her mouth and chewed it slowly. Everything tasted oddly bitter today. Even the sweet wine that her aunt had gotten her for Christmas had a rather displeasing end flavor. She wasn't quite sure what was wrong, until she got into her swivel chair and instantly began seeing double when she opened up her laptop screen. Another attack, she thought to herself. Just close your eyes. It'll all be over soon.

"I miss you." "I know." "When can I see you again?" "I don't know." "It's so lonely without you." "I know." "Where are you going to go now?" "I don't know." "I want you to come back." "I know." "Do you miss me, too?" "I don't know."

I didn't want to have to write another one of these. I hate the fact that I do have to write them. However, something tells me that I will be writing more of these as time goes on and I get older. Some people I write about, I hope, will pass on peacefully and at a good old age. Other times, I expect that the deaths will be untimely and very, very painful to deal with. On October 22nd of this year, my cousin, Michael Blackford, died in Germany from advanced pancreatic cancer. He was seventy-five years old, but he always had the spirit of someone much younger and full of life. He was an adventurer in so many ways, literally and figuratively. When he wasn't extensively traveling around the globe, he was studying our genealogy, making funny commentary in regards to politics, dressing up as Santa Claus, volunteering at museums, and being an amazing husband, father, and grandfather. He left behind a wonderful wife, who happens to be my grandmother's cousin; four children, and n...

"I'm Frost. Charmed," the girl in the white and blue coat said. "Frost?" I asked, furrowing my brow. "That's your real name?" She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Well, no," she replied. "It's a nickname. My friends wouldn't call me Jack Frost, but they had to give me some moniker for my winter enthusiasm. So, there you go."