My Cardboard Balcony

"So what's the secret formula?" "Not telling." "Oh, c'mon." "Nope! Only I know. And my grandfather. Who happens to be dead." "So," I murmured with a sly smile, "you just know then, I presume?" Uma shrugged, bringing a steaming mug of her sweet concoction to her red lips. "Well, you know," she intoned. "My grandfather could very well be a ghost, watching us by this point. Silently judging you. Can't rule anything out."

This One's Free by Belinda Roddie I had a price tag on my arm that reminded me how much I was worth, but you ripped it right off my skin and kissed the mark it left behind. I was all bar codes and clearance stickers, and you scraped them away with love and patience, and when you pulled me from the store, I felt more human than merchandise.

Aw, man, and OneWord.com was on a roll, too! No updated prompt today. Later, guys!

Their Own Little League by Belinda Roddie The sky is red. The grass is apple green. A girl swings a bat and catches leather on the autumn breeze. She tips the brim of her cap so her father can't see her eyes. He pitches her his best fastball. She sends it to the next neighborhood over. They go out for frozen yogurt later, just the two of them. They know that the Irish pub downtown will be playing tonight's Wild Card game. She doesn't like watching baseball because it reminds her that, at least for now, she can never hit against the likes of Bumgarner or Greinke or Arrieta. Her father understands. Twenty years ago, he got to the minors and never rose any higher than that. Chocolate and vanilla swirl, plus worn out mitts and home plate tricks, are what bring this pair together. Tomorrow, they'll try out the next park for practice. Softball teams call out the girl's name, but to her, it's not the same. Instead, Dad and Daughter will duke...

In order to stop yourself from eating that cake, you must remember two things. The first, perhaps less significant than the second yet still crucial, is that you hold an enormously useful trait called willpower. The ability to resist, back off, fight, whatever it takes to curb your appetite for that delicious chocolate confection smothered in butterscotch frosting. The second thing to remember - and most importantly - is that if you so much as nibble a crumb from that cake, your mother will put you in concrete boots and drop you off a bridge. Don't do it.

The System of Hierarchy by Belinda Roddie Upstairs, we hear the fizz of champagne, the clattering of six-inch heels on wooden floorboards. We keep to ourselves in our downstairs apartment, sipping warm cider for the sake of autumn, eating potato chips, watching movies online, ignoring the party going on in the loft above our heads. It's a cork-popping, heart-stopping, body-rocking night up there, apparently. Until we hear the scream and splash, we don't know that someone had the intent of jumping. The saltwater bubbles only a little bit, like the hiss of carbonation, and the man in white tails sinks into the oceanic debris that carries him away from the carnival.

Forty-two soldiers were taken prisoner after the Battle of Times Square, and over twenty of them died before we even reached the camp. One of the bodies, fresh and sweaty from exhaustion and sickness, slumped forward and onto another chained up "enemy of the state," who gazed silently ahead with beaded eyes as I monitored the back of the truck.