My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie It began first with darkness; then came the screams. They tore open the air like the skin's thin, fragile seams. The spirits started dancing, and the ghouls enjoyed their prancing. And all of them convened to infiltrate the children's dreams. The children first would whimper; then finally, they would howl. They'd try to tear themselves away from nightmares' shrouding cowl. But it held firm across their eyes, imbibing them with ghosts and lies. Their sheets would tightly draw about their gaping maws. The children dreamed that they were within a never ending pit. They'd dream of drinking potions mixed with werewolves' grime and spit. They'd cry out for their mothers, their sisters and their brothers. But they were all asleep, locked in Morpheus's keep. The darkness was unyielding; the darkness held its grip. It kissed October's weeping brow and then straight on its lips. It made itself at home where the undead always roamed. I...

Almost made it a week! And yet, no update on the OneWord website today. Oh, well!

Hey, kids! Do you like fire? 'Cause we sure got a lot of it in California this week! So much for this week being better than last week, huh? Yeah, this wasn't exactly a fun series of days. Even though my current town is in no imminent danger of the flames of doom, the bad air quality due to the smoke was reason enough to close down the school I work at for two days. As far as other areas in the North Bay are concerned, I'm sincerely hoping that containment will continue so that no one else - whether they are friends or former colleagues of mine or no - has to lose any more property or loved ones. It has been a tragic week when it comes to the fires in California, and so we must obviously work together as a statewide community to rebuild. In the meantime, I'll be encouraging my Yearbook staff to create a spread about the charity and generosity of our community. Homecoming's had to be rescheduled, so presenting the work we do as students and teachers to help oth...

Draw Your Sword by Belinda Roddie The gladiators all lined up, and they would all die.

The clash of titans turned out to be little more than a quarrel of pygmies, all of the mightiest of gods turning out to be something but a few broken shadows bickering for a small scrap of territory within the Mediterranean. In the end, we watched sheepishly as the deities we idolized shrunk to the heights of children, arguing and prodding each other's chests as their true natures were unveiled like a body stripped of its bejeweled flesh.

The Air Is Hard To Breathe by Belinda Roddie The air is hard to breathe, so I remain within my office with the windows shut, the sunset orange by the window pane, subdued by haze, descending ash, and soot. I read and write and still procrastinate on grading stories that my students penned. I keep on thinking that it's Saturday, when, in truth, the week hasn't reached its end, and schools are merely closed due to the flames sending up toxic plumes we can't inhale and blocking the view of the hills and bay mere miles away from me. The air is stale, but it will suit me fine within this space I've built for myself in this safer place.

Look at all the corporate lobbyists, milling about the foyer, drinking bad wine and wearing ill-fitted and poorly tailored suits. That one sot over there is on his fifth glass, and the top button of his jacket wants to be free and fly into the horizon due to his ever expanding gut. In the meantime, I do well in a three piece, and I'm not even representing any particular client - I'm just enjoying the opportunity to observe the most pandering of pseudo-entrepreneurial souls.