My Cardboard Balcony

"I've never had a buffalo burger before," Uma said. "Try a bite of mine," replied Carla between chews of her patty. "It's good. Bit spicy." Uma nibbled at the meat and felt her tongue tingle. Hints of chili peppers, garlic, and smoke struck her all at once. "Not bad," she mumbled. Carla smiled. "There's plenty more where that came from."

by Belinda Roddie The crackling of the wood in the stove calmed me somewhat, as I settled into a chair and sipped hot chocolate from a chipped, yellowed mug. It had been two hours since Maria had told she'd be heading to the general store in the rain, and I was starting to worry. On a typically calm and sunny day, it only took fifteen minutes each way to get to the small town south of our cabin. I would imagine that, even in the rain, she could have been back in an hour. Then again, there could have been a number of reasons she hadn't returned yet. For one thing, during windy storms, trees were notorious for falling in a dramatic, martyr-like fashion across the narrow roads. For all I knew, Maria had gotten to the general store and now couldn't maneuver her way back. Her cellphone also didn't have good reception this deep into the woods. She may not have had a chance to get to a landline, either, and truth be told, the power could have even gone out in the town. I...

At first, I saw no update, and then I promptly forgot to doublecheck. Whoops. Hopefully it wasn't updated and I didn't miss an opportunity to write something!

Really? Do I really have to be introspective right now? Do I really have to extrapolate on my nice night out in the city and my dad's upcoming birthday, even though there's not much to tell and I'd just be repeating myself when it comes to any other topic I could cover? Really? Really? No, thank you. Good night, everyone. Have a good weekend.

The Best Concert Ever by Belinda Roddie The guitar had fangs, and it hissed at the vocalist.

"I can't go out. I have to study." Grace snorted. "I don't study," she retorted, "and I always get As." "Good for you," Alice replied a little more snidely than she intended, "but I happen to be one of those people who needs hours, if not days, to look over the material and let it soak in. Otherwise, I flunk the class." "You're weak," Grace chuckled. "And you're a jerk," snapped Alice, "but who am I to judge?"

The Madman's Eyes by Belinda Roddie The madman's eyes were dilated, his lips as blue as ocean salt, his teeth exposed and white with froth. I thought I saw him slip into the garden, where each orange rose was pruned and in full bloom. I followed him to the fountain, where he was tossing small and blackened coins into the water. Slim and hunched over, the man gazed at the wall of the manor looming beside him. Was he trying to find solace in a flash of green ivy? Or was he here because this was a place where his thoughts wouldn't clash with reality? When I approached, he was frozen, ash-faced, pure insanity.