My Cardboard Balcony

It's the night before Halloween. I'm sitting at my computer, having just pulverized ten mini Hershey's nuggets and downed them with a glass of iced butterscotch schnapps. Beside me, my fiancée is watching a Youtube video of some kind from a creator I do not follow. I've just finished up listening to the audio of someone performing some sort of monologue/observation written by a mutual friend on Facebook. Sadly enough, the pattern's gotten into my head, and it's almost like I'm trying to emulate it. Copycat. Something I desperately try not to be. I have plans for tomorrow. Good plans. First, I teach. I work with two students every Saturday. The first is younger, middle school age. She has a hard time with social studies. Not so much of a hard time with martial arts. I never learned martial arts. One thing I do regret. The other student is older. Sixteen or so. He's a good writer, but disorganized. Last time I saw him, we went through a whole essay writi...

The Trick-Or-Treater by Belinda Roddie Jack had a lantern, all right - but not a head.

Before I could beg her to stop, my mother had ripped the drawers straight out of my dresser and began to rifle through them. With each scratching noise she made as she rummaged through my things, I could feel my throat constrict. I screamed at her, grabbed her arm and started to cry. But she would not stop. Not until she found exactly what she wanted, strike me across the face, and find a reason to kick me out.

Jason, I Think by Belinda Roddie Jason, I think we need to talk about your multitude of problems. Don't you see how much you're hurting yourself and your friends, how much you're hurting your poor family? The trouble is you drink too much, and then you get into fights - big ones - all the time with guys who are much stronger than you. When you're wasted, you then turn to drugs and crime; honey, you tried to rob a bank two days ago while you were high on some bath salts! When you were caught, you screamed, "I blame the gays!" before asking the male cop for a waltz. This is more than just a slippery slope. In fact, I'd say, Jason, there's no more hope.

"Missus Shiloh, you are a marvel. An absolute marvel." "Why, thank you, Miss Aberforth," crooned Marsha from her perch on Stephen's grand piano. Nearby, Douglas frowned over his flute of champagne, as Marsha patted down the folds of her billowing dress. "It's hard work to be a marvel like myself. Do you fancy a drink?"

Bathing In The Forbidden Lake by Belinda Roddie My mental timer goes off, and I am sweating. Hot, steamy, cold, subdued. I have no recollection of past nightmares, yet the good dreams are gone, too. Slowly, I lift myself from the basin and feel the silver clogging my ears. My eyes are clouded over - I can feel the murkiness, though I can see just fine. Endless rows of redwoods, bordering water that has only appeared for tonight. Grabbing my clothes, I yank them, stretch them, over my soggy body. There is no moon hanging over me like a target. I am dripping reds and golds despite the blues and greens around me. I am speechless. I let strings fly from the fabric. I am free.

"Is it really that simple?" whispered Jackie as I showed her the mac and cheese recipe. I smiled. "Yep!" I replied cheerily. "Just some hot water, some noodles, some milk and butter and cheese powder, and boom. Delectable dairy goodness." Jackie at first seemed raring to go, but then she wrinkled her nose. "What if I'm lactose intolerant?" she asked in that cute, concerned voice of hers. I laughed and ruffled my daughter's bouncy blonde curls. "Honey," I cooed to her, "you don't have to worry about that."