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“Did you sing her a lullaby?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Hannah set down her highball glass. “She says my singing voice alarms her.”

“What? Why?”

She shrugged. “Well, she didn’t say it quite like that…but…I guess I don’t sound too great.”

“Or you try too hard.”

“I just want her to sleep well,” Hannah sighed. “For once. And not have nightmares every time three o’clock am rolls around.”

“We can only wish,” said Todd.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.19.2013 @ 3:56 pm

The letter was not signed. The envelope was not stamped. Yet it had arrived at the house without the assistance of the United States Postal Service. It had been sneaked through the mail slot, as it were, dropped into the cluster of gathered dog hair reassembling into into a strange silhouette against the hallway carpet.

As the recipient stooped down to retrieve the mail, the unsigned letter poked upward, its red sheen most alarming. It was not a Valentine’s Day message. It was something much worse.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.18.2013 @ 4:03 pm

If Claude followed the airstream all the way down the stairs, he would find the cellar where all of his uncle’s wines were stored. But the bottles, when opened, would emit a foul-smelling, blatantly scarlet plume of gas, and the beverages would be effervescent, frothing, unwilling to be drunk without a scowl or wrinkled nose. So Claude never followed the airstream; he was too cautious of the odor.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.17.2013 @ 12:52 pm

I drank a manhattan in Manhattan, the cocktail swirling endlessly around in my clogged esophagus. The acid reflux kicked in eventually, and it all just started burning. It burned so bad that I couldn’t sleep during the night, which got me up and coughing against the New York streets.

I stopped at a doughnut joint and asked for cold water. The dreary-eyed baker handed me an empty styrofoam cup. When I drank the water, it was sweet.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.16.2013 @ 2:16 pm

The claw was buried deep – very deep – into my shoulder, edging toward my clavicle. There was no finger attached to it. No implication of a talon. A paw. A mutant hand capable of boasting scales or fur. And of course, it hurt very much.

I took considerable time removing the claw, and when it had finally let go out of my flesh, it made a soggy noise and slumped in my palm. I examined the clotted object and wondered who, or what, had wanted to kill me in the first place.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.15.2013 @ 1:29 pm

We couldn’t say that word in the classroom because it was taboo. Nor at the bus stop. Nor at the city hall. Not even at home, where comfort should have been sought for the sake of privacy. But privacy was a draconian term by now, and the truth was, the forbidden element of the language had once been a common occurrence fifty or so years back.

So when Alan Hoff said the taboo word and later disappeared, we all knew why.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.13.2013 @ 6:15 pm

“What color is your hair?”

“Auburn.”

“Auburn?”

“Sort of like a…reddish brown.”

“Like…ketchup and chocolate mixed together?”

Charlie smiled and scratched his dead. “Maybe not so dark of red. But it’s fine.”

The boy grinned, picked up his white cane, and waved goodbye.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.12.2013 @ 3:44 pm

I am nothing but a celestial figment of your imagination. The artificial nebulae pulsing out throbbing ribbons of code. The data infused within the nectar of the gods. The gods that happen to simply be more superior in computer make-up. There is always a hierarchy within the system. Some have better designs than others.

Don’t worry about being erased. There is no plug to be pulled. There is merely the endless existence crafted by the frazzled minds of geniuses, and you cannot run away from the end product.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.11.2013 @ 1:09 pm

The very tall cowboy loomed over the very short rancher, but the very short rancher had a far more intimidating scowl. They both stood at the counter in the Old West Saloon, drinking honey bourbon and spewing out profanities like hornets against a hive. They only stopped cussing and whooping when a quaint old man waddled by, taking a seat beside them.

The very tall cowboy grunted at the bartender. “Old feller’s drink’s on us,” he grunted, pointing at his diminutive but assenting companion.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.10.2013 @ 6:59 pm

Mary used extra soap on her hands after digging for her ring in the sewage. She could barely believe how gung-ho she had been to find it. But after flushing it down that public toilet, she was determined to find the end of the pipe, and then had to slog out of the reeking fecal matter toward her apartment.

Thank goodness Cindy wasn’t home, she thought to herself. To come in and think a cow died in here!

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.09.2013 @ 6:24 pm

“Get me another beer?”

“Haven’t you had enough already?”

“No, see, I had three IPAs. Now I want a Hefeweizen.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’ve had a rough night.”

“No, a fucking slave back in the eighteen hundreds had a rough night. You’re being pissy.”

“Yes, and being pissy merits alcohol! Here’s five bucks – get me one so I don’t ahve to move my pissy ass!

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.07.2013 @ 2:09 pm

I had heard the stories before. All of the stories, actually. Geronimo never let up with them. I knew his life story almost better than he did. In fact, when he started retelling stories to passerby, I would sometimes correct him if he couldn’t remember a detail or botched a date. It was almost as if I was becoming the mental stenographer for him here.

So I bought a typewriter from an old friend. Geronimo appreciated the tick-tack sound as I recorded his tales.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.06.2013 @ 6:02 pm

Dennis didn’t enjoy simplifying any of the word problems that he gave to his students. They were word problems. They should not have to be simplified. It was all about the reading and the math, and if they couldn’t do both, why even bother being in school?

But the principal ragged him on it, and so did the students. Even the parents interviewed. Finally, he agreed that words like “phantasmagoria” and “lugubrious” probably weren’t appropriately leveled words for a second grade math problem.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.08.2013 @ 5:03 pm

“Agh!” Sam shrieked. “What is this? It’s burning me!”

“Oh, are you allergic to that cream?” asked the doctor.

“What the Hell do you think?” Sam howled.

She held up her arm, and her mother, sitting in the corner, flinched at the sight. What was once a measly spider bite was a complete explosion of purples, blacks, and reds. Like Jackson Pollock had gotten angry at a canvas one day and coated it with colors instead of splattering it.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.05.2013 @ 12:24 pm

You had lost all credibility even before you stepped onto that stage. Your incessant rants to journalists, leaning toward the objectively incoherent. The way your breath reeked of Chablis while on the Piers Morgan Show. Your complete denial of the many factors of life and its benefits that you used to held dear. Before you retreated. Before you tore yourself away from his embrace, saying your love wasn’t pure. You closeted bastard.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.04.2013 @ 1:22 pm

“What rating did they give your movie?”

Theodore puffed out vapor from his electronic cigarette and sighed. “R.”

“Not PG-13?”

“Too much gore, they said.”

“No kidding.” I passed him a glass of wine. “So much for the marketing scheme.”

“I’m fighting it, though. All the way up to the top. What’s a little decapitation gonna do to hurt the boys, huh?”

I wasn’t going to dignify his comments for a response. I was just there for the chit-chat.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.03.2013 @ 6:26 pm

I broke down the timeline of the night’s events again to Stewart, just as the ice was being to melt into fresh globs against his still apparently aching brow. Obviously, step one to the entire process had been to crack open our neighbors’ most expensive bottle of tequila.

“And Rodrigo didn’t mind?”

“Not at all. He hates agave. His cousin gave it to him.”

After that, it has all been confetti and insanity.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.02.2013 @ 8:15 pm

The whole galaxy seemed to dissolve into a tall, clear glass, swimming cosmos waiting to be imbibed by the one who had poured the stardust from the bottle. One swish baked the cocktail in an angry burst of energy, and when swallowed, it caused fireworks within the cavernous belly, rumbled, and then was silent. The rotation of the axis was all it took to get the drinker’s head spinning.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.01.2013 @ 9:48 pm

“I’m telling you, hilarity will ensue. I mean, think about it. We get the paint. We get the confetti. Then one big, fat roll of duct tape, and then…”

“Hold it, hold it, hold it.” I held up both hands before Haley could go on. “Let me digest this. Hilarity will ensue for us, or for everyone involved?”

Haley raised an eyebrow. “Since when were we caring about the prank victims?”

“Since I had a soul. I dunno. C’mon.”

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.30.2013 @ 1:57 pm

We were enemies in elementary school. Enemies in middle school. Apathetic in high school. But by the time we stumbled into each other – me raw from a piss poor college experience, back working at my father’s hardware store, her ever glowing from getting a hairstyling license – something changed. We stared at each other across from the pub. She waved. I smiled.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.29.2013 @ 6:18 pm

On top of the barbed wire fence, a crow missing half of its wing sat perched, waiting for the Baron to arrive at his estate. It could not call out to its neighbor, its voice as dried up as the nearby swamp that used to be the grandiose city lake. The Baron had sucked it all up – for reservoir purposes, ironically – and the county remained in perpetual drought. The saddest part was that the bird was the only creature that awaited the man’s presence – no one else desired to see him appear.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.28.2013 @ 8:59 pm

The chain was broken around the clasp, so I couldn’t fix the necklace as it was. Instead, I palmed the jewel that had once drooped from the silver, placing it into a small oaken box that I kept in the corner of my room.

“Will it be safe there?” asked my grandmother, whose wrinkles turned to rivers on her face when bathed in the bedroom light.

I nodded. She sighed and sat down. I could hear her back audibly creak as she leaned forward.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.27.2013 @ 2:30 pm

So that was that. They would electrocute him. That poor old electric chair hadn’t been used for years. Last time it was utilized, it was Larry the Beast, the fat bastard who killed sixteen people with a hatchet and a hammer. Six of them had been young boys. Probably because they hadn’t wanted to pork his greasy, fatty loins. But now, it would be a runt known as Gerald.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.26.2013 @ 6:04 pm

“Wanna go bowling tonight?”

“No, thanks,” Sally grumbled. “Right hand’s acting up again. I think it’s tendonitis.”

“Not carpal tunnel syndrome?”

“No. I already asked my doctor that. She just thinks I tugged on my wrist a little too much when I was weeding last week.”

Wally sighed. “I just don’t get how you persistently try to take care of that damn apartment garden. It’s always going to look lousy.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.25.2013 @ 6:12 pm

“Who was the planter?”

“Um…” I blinked. “Planter?”

“You know what I mean!” Martin roared. “The planter of evidence! Of incorrect evidence, might I add! Throwing off our scent!”

“How in Hell would I know who the ‘planter’ was?” I demanded. “Are you implying something?”

Martin’s face went from red to magenta. He sputtered. He shook. He marched back to his desk, with the chief staring after him.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “He blamed me this morning.”

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.24.2013 @ 4:46 pm

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Roy checkmated Shane. Shane couldn’t make sense of it. She had calculated every move perfectly, down to the very last pawn. Every strategy, every technique, boiled and bubbled and brought to one big, frothy formula – worth nothing after Roy’s deft stroke of deliverance.

Shane looked at the board and clicked her tongue.

“You’re a little bitch, McTannie,” she scowled.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.23.2013 @ 6:40 pm

In the small café, they were serving hot chocolates to any homeless person who stumbled in for warmth. The blizzard had not let up for eight days now, and no cars budged from their snowy nests, and no lights emitted ever gave enough heat to thaw out fingers and loosen water from in between lips and in between eyelids. One matted woman in particular asked for espresso in the cocoa, and they gave it. Never before had they seen sparklers in a winter lady’s eyes.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.22.2013 @ 6:32 pm

“You’re going to go for that?”

Sam nodded with a peaceful smile as she pulled out what appeared to be a magenta waistcoat from the bargain rack. As she slipped her arms through the sleeves, she transformed from the seventeen-year-old chemistry genius that Arthur knew to a divine, regal looking specimen. She could almost leap onto a white stallion, snatch a beautiful sword, and gallop off to save a princess.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.21.2013 @ 2:53 pm

Charlotte wanted to burrow into her mound of sheets and blankets and bury himself under the fabric like she were hiding in a cave. She pulled the miniature flashlight out of her pocket and, remembering the page she had marked, began to read the book that her father had forbidden her to touch the night before. Sure, there were some rather risque things to read, but she was enticed by it. And she stayed up for hours reading the characters kiss again and again.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.20.2013 @ 1:01 pm

Atop the cliffs of Moher, I saw the sea spray floating across the jagged rocks, inviting me to jump and become the foam. The foam of a tankard that I had drunk from far too many times before. The suds of a bathtub where my father had lain in before his head lolled back and life seeped from him, starting with his failing heart. I did not think about the woman who had brought me here, who now took pictures of the view.

Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.19.2013 @ 10:17 pm