My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie He spent his last few dollars on tea and jam, and he hoped he wouldn't need anything else before getting home. Both were blackberry, by the way - blackberry tea and blackberry jam. He thought his mom would approve because when he was young, he would go blackberry picking with her, and they'd eat half of what they'd pluck from the prickly branches. They would also purposely run their stained fingers across each other's shirts, coloring them purple as if attempting to create some sort of natural tie dye. Nathan grimaced. He remembered that, while the gas tank on his car was mostly full, the tires were getting old and he'd have to replace them. Given the meager paychecks he received, he wasn't thrilled to spend a good chunk of it on new rubber. Still, he stayed positive that he wouldn't have any problems driving back to the dingy apartment that he shared with his half-brother. No flat tires, no skidding or hydroplaning while the rain came...

"Gentlemen!" crowed Huck, standing in front of the group with his heels clicking together. "I have just received a letter from the Duchess of Anders Row!" The men in top hats and tailcoats murmured and muttered as Huck tore open the envelope. Indeed, the paper had the official wax seal, and the penmanship certainly looked like it belonged to the fifty-seven-year-old noblewoman.

So I'm posting this past midnight on Saturday, but we're gonna count it for Friday's introspection, because I was out late and it's been a long, difficult, anxiety-filled week...with a good ending, of course. As most of you know by now, the presidential election has been taking a toll on me. Now, I'm not going to name names, considering that there miiiiiight be a candidate or two who would sic their lawyers on me if I got too nasty, but you don't have to be a genius to know what's going on in the United States and why it's such a big deal. Long story short: I'm embarrassed for my country and definitely worried about its future. I got so worried, in fact, that it nearly compromised me emotionally. I had crying fits, obsessively read articles, and constantly turned to friends and loved for consoling and affirmation. I thank everyone who was subjected to that, and I also apologize for making you deal with it. You are all saints. But fear not, those ...

Theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven by Belinda Roddie Blessed are those who buy me pizza and cold beer.

For several years, I thought I wanted to be an acrobat – a dancer and spinner and flipper at the circus, dazzling the crowds as my outfit shimmered with colors and glitter. But that was before the accident. I had spent considerable time in the hospital afterward, mentally debating just where my life would go next. Especially since, after all, I never longer had any legs below the knee. My mother was beside herself, and my father could hardly speak. He sat around my hospital room a lot silently, just biting his lip and shaking his head. Unlike them, however, I was stoic, matter-of-fact; I could tell they were shocked, almost mortified, by my superficial calm.

The Truth Is by Belinda Roddie The truth is that I'm afraid of the Grim Reaper reaching my doorsteps sooner than I would prefer. When all the lights are dim, I think of worst scenarios. When the sky gets dark, I'm calm for a moment or two, but then the anxieties seep into my veins like fresh blood. I resent the experiences, and I will keep attempting to find courage when the world appears to be falling apart, and my rights and freedoms are threatened with each twirl of empty suits' fingers and racist cries for a new order. With each shaking breath, I know my fears all link to one thing: Death.

Tried going onto OneWord today, but the entry form page wouldn't load! Just a sad, blank white screen. Oh, well. We'll see if it's working tomorrow.