My Cardboard Balcony

Night Light by Belinda Roddie You're hard to forget and easy to regret. Watch me flounder in my thoughts while your sun never sets.

By the time I made it to the wounded knight, I could see the gaping cracks and gashes in her once beautiful silver armor from about a mile away. I knelt down beside her, trying not to focus too much on the red seeping through the tunic that was now torn beneath her chestplate. "It's nothing," she tried to tell me, lifting up her visor in order to cough. "Really. Just some cuts." "I take no chances, m'lady," I replied humbly, opening up my bag as the carnage around me continued to spread.

Not one drop of rum was left in the bottle, and angrily, Lars flung it against the wall, where it exploded into a starburst of crystalline stars. As he staggered to his feet, fuming and smelling like stale chips and alcohol, Simone jumped up to stop him from storming to the kitchen to get a refill of anything that could draw him further into the nether regions of intoxication.

by Belinda Roddie My bones glow in the dark. I can feel my blood pulse like waves. When the moon is full, the tides are higher, and I am brimming with fireflies. I hide underneath the clusters of brush, the greens that match my incandescence. Heated over centuries of man's discovered kindling, I am a firework ready to burst into flames. But for now, I merely glow. Look at the silver rings bound to my fingers. Look at the ruby tattoos on my arms. I am all metalware and jewelry now, and I bleed liquid gold when the blade cuts too close. Look at the way the sunrise scalds me. I am pinks and purples when the day is done. But when night falls, I light up like lightning without a storm. I cast off my own reflection, yet still, I glow. I am soaking in moonlight until it brands my skin. I am stories and cautionary tales in a sack. Hold me close to a lamp, and I bubble like lava. My heart pumps out the ocean. I am careful not to fall and shatter the ivory that sends electricity to m...

"Look, I'm just trying to tell you - " "Would you get to the point?" "I'm trying to tell you that - " "Would you get to the fuckin' point?" I could feel my face grow red as I shouted right in Ivan's face. "That's what I'm trying to do, dickwad! The problem is you keep interrupting me!" Ivan went deathly silent. He had never heard me yell before. At least, not at him.

This has been a really rough beginning of the year. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of good things that have been happening for me. I'm enjoying my student teaching and getting a lot of work done. I was able to get my training done for my official teaching job (I've been doing that for nine months, so best to get the orientation out of the way now). I love the fact that I can express my opinion about my work environment and strategies to improve the place I work at without getting reprimanded or dismissed (I know, my higher ups value my opinion. What a concept, huh?). I'm still consistently writing, and a lot is falling into place for my wedding; for example, I got to go to an  amazing store   for my suit fitting and wound up being treated like royalty there. That being said, a lot of difficult things have happened and been thrown either my way or a loved one's way. Besides just the toxic political environment (Can Donald Trump just go away already?), the mul...

You'll Be The Third by Belinda Roddie "How many people have you killed?" "Two." " Two?" "So far."