My Cardboard Balcony

Enough. I've had enough of the senseless violence. I've had enough of the uniform being tarnished for the sake of brutality. I see the endless slabs of cardboard and white posters screaming for some semblance of humanity among those who are meant to protect us. I've seen too many dead bodies in the street. I've heard too many mothers crying. How many more will have to die until the institution changes? Enough. I've had enough.

by Belinda Roddie "Let's go to Ireland," I said. "We'll go to Cork first. We'll find An Bodhran and have two pints each, black and gold, crisp and smooth down our throats. We'll dip our toes in the river and try not to get caught or carried away by the current. After that, we'll head to Galway. The city is so beautiful in the early spring. If it doesn't rain, we can stay by the Corrib and eat cheese and onion sandwiches until our stomachs ache. I've seen buskers play uilleann pipes for euros. They'll serenade us as we dance across dangerous cobblestone. In Dublin, there will be celebration. The post office will be lit in somber colors, but there might be a parade. We'll ignore the Guinness Factory for another drink at the Old Brazen Head. When it's dark, I'll sneak you into Stephen's Green or Merrion Square, climbing whatever walls or barricades are in our way. And when sunrise touches our lips, I'll kiss you with dew...

I stood ankle deep in the shallow, algae-choked water of the pond, watching as the half-rotten canoe bobbed along in the warm ripples. I didn't know what to make of this place anymore. My brother had drowned after falling out of that canoe, in this very pond. But now I could wade in and not even have the water touch my chin, and it all felt so absurd.

It's been a good week. No, this will not be as long as my last introspection, but allow me to get all gushy and talk about some things and people that I'm so grateful for. Like two of my friends from college, Sarah and Ron - thank you for swinging by my town and having lunch with me. It was awesome to catch up and confirm that you'll be going to my wedding. Don't worry, it'll be fun. Also, my new family at my second job - you guys are amazing. I am having a blast working with you all and can't wait to see what comes next in the future. And my hair stylist, Maureen. You are such a BAMF for embracing my desire to take a risk and giving me a wonderful pixie cut. As we both say, you make me look veddy veddy bee-yoo-tee-ful! My father deserves a shout-out, too, for having a coffee outing with me and catching up and just all around being an amazing man. I love you. Another friend, Rae: Thank you. You know what we talked about tonight over dinner and drinks. ...

Bald and Battered by Belinda Roddie I shaved my head so you could see my scars.

I could feel his hand slither against my hip, and that was when I pulled out the gun. It slipped out of its holster like meat sliding from a greasy package, and it felt wet and foreign against my palm as I raised the barrel and pulled the trigger right between the bastard's eyes. I expected a delicate hole in his head, a trickle of red. I did not give him a beautiful death. His head very much exploded, like a volcano, and he toppled to the floor with his blood and shattered bone pooling around him like magma.

This Is My Last Chance by Belinda Roddie This is my last chance to recover my bearings, my grace, and my sanity. My robes have been stripped, my great throne has burned, my crown hung in a vicious effigy. My brother has been executed, my sister lost to consumption, and my dear cousins, nieces, and nephews have all died in the midst of this uprising. I fear that more will be slaughtered if I don't take this fading opportunity to stop the bloodshed. The old world order's at stake. I have my sword and shield. I will chop away at the wall that the people raised to hinder me as queen in golden days.