My Cardboard Balcony

MY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE I'm busy. Very busy. Have a good night, guys.

A Girl Can Dream by Belinda Roddie Shannon, c'mon! We're late for the Vampire Wannabe club meeting!

Her hands were icy cold. Typical. Bad circulation. Either she was one of those clichéd, recluse protagonists in young adult novels just seeking love, or she was a vampire. Actually, the latter would be kind of cool. Dating a vampire? Imagine the hunt and adventure. Though she couldn't be a vampire from the Twilight series. The moment that girl started to sparkle around me, it was over between us. Still, something like Dracula couldn't hurt. As long as she could eat garlic. I loved garlic so much, I cooked it in almost everything, so I wanted her to be able to like it, too.

The Dirigible by Belinda Roddie The dirigible soared across the sky, and onlookers from every window gasped and stared in awe at the blimp that could fly. Its pilot, dark and curly-haired, had grasped the controls triumphantly in her fists, proudly steering the massive zeppelin over the buildings, through patches of mist, and into a reddening horizon. Below, a boy and girl had dripping cones of ice cream melting in their hands, but they did not notice. Their minds were truly blown by the sight of the airship, bold and gray, sailing over the small town where a thirst for adventure was beginning to burst.

It was on a sunny day that one of my students arrived at my classroom about fifteen minutes after school was over. I didn't know what to expect at first; after all, she didn't talk much in class, and anything she did contribute was simple and curt. She seemed to have no issues with the curriculum, or the schoolwork. She was a straight A student. Clear cut, almost silent. "Miss Evans," I greeted her, setting down my pen. "What brings you here?" She was holding her book out, outstretched, like it was about to burn her, and replied, "I can't do my project on this."

My Massage by Belinda Roddie You push your hands into my back, and the sounds I make almost echo in the dim, dome-shaped chamber of my mind, rising up and down like murmurs from a pleasant sea, your knuckles molding the flesh on my back like dough refusing to turn into bread. I have lost weight recently, and grown stronger, so the muscles in my shoulders have become tighter, like a rope being coiled and knotted, coiled and knotted, over and over in a prickly row. You smooth out my rough edges, let your fingers send firecrackers up and down my arms, and kiss me gently to remind me of where I am, and who I will be, and how much I adore you through it all.

"She's a witch! A witch! Burn her!" "Shut up, Chad," snapped Alex, before she cast a coy glance at Tiffany. Tiffany cradled the game controller in her hands like it belonged there. "So, not too bad at Smash, are ya?" Tiffany smiled beneath her blonde braid. "I mopped the floor with you, hon." "I'll let you mop the floor with me any day," Alex replied, winking as she lifted her baseball cap from her eyes.