My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie Inspiration was dead, and it was their job to find out who killed her. They sealed off the scene of the crime with yellow caution tape, ribbon tying up a morbid gift. They collected evidence, took photographs, and found leads. They barred the press and prevented any outside voices from interfering from their investigation. They would not be deterred. They started interrogations. First, they questioned the college student who tried to type up short stories in the local coffees hop. Then, they prodded the busker on the street corner, who during the inquisition let his anxiety get the best of him and vomited into a nearby trash can. One by one, they lined up the independent poets, ignoring their complaints about whatever slam or reading they were supposed to attend. Whenever one stepped out of the office, they were paler than before, like all the blood had been sucked from their face by a vampire. Then they finally got around me. And I, in my sequined coat and ...

Still no update on the OneWord website. Happy Saturday!

Well, my handful of readers, this is it. The home stretch. The climax of the story. This weekend, I will be finishing up work on my PACT - my performance assessment that will make or break my chances of becoming a credentialed English teacher. I wish I could say I wasn't terrified, but I am. I know my anxiety might be unfounded, but the fear of failure is hovering over me like a goddamn cloud. I know I had a good teaching event. I know I got some good video footage of my teaching. I know I have all the tools I need to pass this assessment. But it doesn't assuage the impending panic "Oh, God, did I do this right?" I know I have tremendous support - not just from my loved ones, but also from my mentors, colleagues, and students. I just hope that I won't let anyone down. No matter what, I will continue to teach. No matter what, I will continue to learn. Wish me luck. Much love to all of you. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Prank'd! by Belinda Roddie Dude! I just tricked you into drinking hydrogen peroxide, bro!

No update on the OneWord website. And no, that's not an April Fool's joke. Other posts incoming!

Ever Since by Belinda Roddie Ever since you harassed me in my youth and haunted me in adulthood, I've lived a life of pain and unease, and the truth is that I can never interact with people the way that others do. I sweat and freeze in others' presence. Paralyzed, I stutter, stop, and find a parapet to prop my body against. Stopping cries from ripping from my body's hard enough, but then I see you enter the same bar that I've frequented for years. You act tough, yet I see heat in your eyes like a star dying slowly, turning to ash. I hope, sickeningly, you're broken and can't cope.

There was no scientific evidence for this. No fossils, no dusted off artifacts. No records or written theories or eyewitness accounts prior. No DNA samples, no data, no correlation. Nothing. And yet, there it was - and there we were - standing on the precipice of a crevasse where down below, the eroded yet still relatively intact spires of an ancient kingdom lay beneath our feet. The head of our archaeology team hypothesized that it must have been buried underground for thousands of years, yet the architecture of the revealed buildings seemed different than what we had researched in our history books; in fact, the design of it seemed fairly modern.