My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie That was the first time she had sold her homemade witch's brew, but she had never expected the customer's reaction to it. Granted, it had been a much more positive reaction   than she thought it would be: After all, the potion itself required a level head and a good heart. In this situation, however, it was as if Alizon had made the best recreational drug since marijuana had been legalized. It was addictive. The customer himself - Bartholomew Graff the Third - was the son of a warlock who had dabbled in similar alchemy that Alizon now revolutionized as a retail opportunity. But his father had certainly not been able to create such an enticing elixir. "Thirty bottles," he demanded through crystal ball the next day. "I'm holding a gala at the Wicked Fortress this Saturday. Your brew's going to be the staple beverage." "A-are you sure?" stammered Alizon. She felt her palms go clammy. "Th-thirty bottles only...

He was single; she was not. She was gay, and he was hot. He was ready to accost her, but he faceplanted and lost her. She had earned her black belt, too, so she made him black and blue. He was single; she was not. Her fiancée came in hot. Didn't matter how he begged; soon, he couldn't feel his legs.

Why is the first deadline for my Yearbook class approaching so damn fast?! Jesus, two weeks away, and I don't know if we can get the stuff we want done! Phew. Okay. Mini freak-out's now out of the way. Moving on. So...yeah! After a short week of work due to the fires, I felt like I returned to a sense of normalcy at my school. My English students are doing what I believe is a fun and creative rhetoric assignment focused on advertising. My Yearbook staff is designing pages for the yearbook, and they'll hopefully be all done and look great by the first out of six deadlines. I've been able to tend to self-care a bit more, which is always a plus. Autumn weather is finally kicking in, so I'm enjoying the chillier weather a lot. Definitely makes my hot chocolate obsession a bit more rational! I mean, the world's still insane, and the orange man still needs to be locked away in a padded room, but hey, I'm still alive and kicking, aren't I? And so are my f...

Eradication by Belinda Roddie If this is love, then zap it from my system.

There is where we stay tonight; this is where we lodge. No bunk beds, no couches, no cellar or garage. No tables and no chandeliers; no desks and, yes, no chairs. No furniture in here at all - just carpet and some stairs. Let's pitch a blanket, settle down, tell stories through the night. I'm sorry if you wake up and your back isn't set right.

That Feeling by Belinda Roddie That feeling of euphoria returned when you lay down beside me on the bed, and as you kissed me, all my passion burned within my chest. The spinning in my head was like my brain had been set to "puree," and now I was just dizzy from the high of touching you. I saw color in gray, a vibrancy in dusty shadows. I was hungry for your body, so I took you all in like perfume, and thus, I made myself float in an ecstasy that shook me to my core. To my surprise, you stayed with me throughout the night. I was still smiling from my "no booze needed" buzz.

She spent each waking moment waving to the mailman, waving to her neighbors as they puttered by on their scooters. She wouldn't stop waving - her wrist cracked and propped with each swivel of it, her fingers stiff and numb in the winter morning air, that constant slight swish of self-made breeze as her hand moved back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until she lost feeling in her arm entirely.