Comments Posted By Belinda Roddie

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Perhaps only once a century, she emerges from the sea and leaves trails of saltwater on sidewalks and asphalt streets that normally never touch the ocean. Sometimes she slithers toward the closest drive-thru and orders a large milkshake and fries – never a burger. You can hear her slurping down her fast food close to the shore; even monsters of the deep get hungry.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.25.2017 @ 10:19 pm


Seven sisters held hands before the angry king, whose face turned purple at the sight. He instructed his guards to execute them – ALL of them – but their halberds crumbled into dust before they could even aim their points at the women’s chests. The sisters sang, their hair bristling in a sudden wind, and their words were incoherent to the monarch. But that was because he did not understand the Ancient Tongue, as true heirs to the throne were supposed to.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.24.2017 @ 11:15 pm


“Did you seriously…?”

“Yep.” I grinned and wiped a sweaty hand across my brow. My palm came back red. I was bleeding a little. Not much, though.

“C’mon, man,” groaned the private as she hoisted me from the fox hole. “Why did you have to act all heroic and pull a stupid stunt like that?”

“It slowed down the enemy, didn’t it?”

She sighed. “Only a little.” Then she kissed my knuckles before helping me walk to the medical area.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.24.2017 @ 9:30 am


Three of us went walking on the cove that separated the city from Atlantis. We looked for jellyfish and crabs and counted how many times we had to shake sand out of our shoes. We said one day that we’d go scuba diving as soon as we learned how and got the right equipment. Then two of us left, I stayed alone by the clear water and had a fruitful conversation with my reflection.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.21.2017 @ 8:58 pm


“Why weren’t you there?”

I blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was adamant. “Why weren’t you there?” she repeated. “I was expecting you there, and you weren’t there. Everything fell apart. I needed you.”

“Okay,” I muttered, shuffling awkwardly against my chair. “I think there’s a slight misunderstanding here. I don’t know where ‘there’ is, and I certainly don’t remember telling you I’d be anywhere for you in particular.”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.20.2017 @ 11:51 am


“Lawrence!” shouted Lester. “Lawrence! We’ve had a breakthrough!”

The fingers on the left hand of the subject – crooked and stiff – had twitched somewhat after the body had been placed on the bed. Lawrence stared. He had never detected motor responses in the specimen until now. He pushed his golden spectacles up the bridge of his long nose and wiped a rivulet of sweat threatening to escape from his forehead.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.18.2017 @ 9:07 pm


Alan wouldn’t stay at the Grand Pearl Hotel because he was absolutely certain that there were ghosts haunting it. Specifically, he thought they’d haunt any room he frequented.

“They like odd room numbers,” he told me over beer, “and I always get rooms with an odd number. I’m not risking staying in 217 and getting attacked by hungry ghosts.”

I stared. “I’m pretty sure ghosts don’t eat people.”

“Then what do they eat, Lorraine? Tacos?!”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.17.2017 @ 11:33 pm


How many starfish can you find? One, two, three, four. They’re all washed up in brine. Sand, salt, wind, shore. They are perfect, and we’ll dine. Munch, chew, crunch, mmm. Pair them up with kelp-filled wine. Gulp, gulp, gulp, hmmm.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.16.2017 @ 6:01 pm


There was a cold wind blowing against the stained glass window of the church, and no birds were singing; their whistling tunes would be drowned out by the organ player, who was practicing on a Monday evening, when only one person was in the confessional. The person in the confessional was young, weeping; in her hands she clasped a crystal rosary, trying to pray away a sinful part of herself.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.15.2017 @ 3:44 pm


“Hey. Hey, kid,” muttered the homeless woman sitting in her own urine at the bus stop. “You’ve got something for me to eat? I’m hungry. Starving! I need protein, you hear? And carbs! I’ll die of exhaustion without carbs!”

The young boy unwrapped his sandwich and handed it to the woman, who devoured it eagerly. A little rush of color rose in her cheeks, and she sighed and lulled her head back against the concrete wall.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.14.2017 @ 8:24 pm


How many boys wore eyeliner to the concert that night? They screamed and blew kisses at one another as the lead guitarist made out with his microphone. Meanwhile, I was lusting after the bassist, with that red hair and her sweet, sweet hips, those kickass curves. I knew the pills were kicking in because then I saw double – awesome! TWO sexy bassists!

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.12.2017 @ 10:50 pm


“Wait…how many pairs of shoes do you have?” Nora demanded to know.

“I dunno.” Harriet shrugged. “Twenty-two? Twenty-three, maybe?”

“Do you really need that many pairs?”

“Of course!” Harriet pointed to her pile of high heels. “Every pair is for a different occasion. There’s a difference between holiday heels and date night heels. And don’t even get me started on my daily sneaker regimen!”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.12.2017 @ 10:52 am


She kept her boat close to the shore, the salt in her lungs and bits of kelp in her hair. She tugged at the ropes so that the sails could breathe a little in the night air. It was cold and dreary out; the skies were tinged with the sort of gray that was dull and mournful, as if drained of color many days ago. She could see the moon, but barely, as it hung like a limp pearl among dimmed stars.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.11.2017 @ 9:28 am


I will not sing our national anthem. You cannot make me do it. The words mean nothing to me as I stare at a flag that melts into red, white, and blue streaks of paint. It all bleeds into the bay, and I am left with nothing but a vague understanding of principles like “freedom” and “liberty,” statements tossed around like a hot potato that people can barely touch. No, I will not sing our anthem, because I don’t feel free or brave.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.09.2017 @ 9:50 pm


How many knives does Horace have? One, two, three – AGH! How many wounds on me now bleed? One, two, three – ugggggh.

How many stitches do I need? One, two – I’m a goner. How many years does Horace get? Ten? Twenty? Life? DEATH!

Watch as he goes to the guillotine. Hey, it kind of looks like a knife! How many knives does Horace dream of before he dies? Thousands. Hurk.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.08.2017 @ 8:39 pm


“Where did they go?” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

No one answered me. I tried to grab the bar counter in front of me; my fingers slipped, like they were dissolving into rivulets of water across the wood and glass. My mouth was full of invisible glass shards. I was dizzy and delirious. And my wife and son were nowhere to be found.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.07.2017 @ 9:00 pm


When I walked into the theater, it was empty save for Stephen sitting in the back row, staring into space. The stage had not yet been cleared of the last play’s set, and lighting equipment was piled in an awkward, dangerous tower against the wall. As I surveyed the scene, Stephen seemed to notice me and spoke up.

“Mister Kramer said he’d break everything down tomorrow,” he said, as if he really believed it.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.07.2017 @ 12:15 am


The stranger tried to tell a joke, but it wasn’t very humorous. He tried to dress in black tie, yet he didn’t quite make it to glamorous. He tried to stomach alcohol, but booze was so precipitous. He tried to make a speech, but he was the opposite of articulate.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.05.2017 @ 8:32 pm


“I’m stressed out.”

“Have you tried yoga?”

“Take deep breaths.”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

“But have you tried yoga, though?”

“Exercise always relaxes me.”

“How about a healthy smoothie to cleanse your body?”

“My mother always said that stress is a sign of an overworked mind.”

“No, seriously, you should try yoga.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Come have tea with me, and we’ll talk.”


» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.04.2017 @ 3:36 pm


I traveled the world for seven years with only a wad of cash in my back pocket and a backpack full of photographs and writing journals. I stayed in hostels and tiny homes free of charge because the owners pitied me and thought I would stray into the abyss if they didn’t reach out a hand. I was always known as the wayward daughter – unable to behave or remain in one place for very long. I tried to walk to the edge of the world, but there’s no such thing, of course, so all I did was move in circles.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.03.2017 @ 1:32 pm


How long has the queen been imprisoned? Seven years? Seventeen? Is there gray in her hair and wrinkles beneath her eyes, or is she still young and spry in a darkened cell? Has she been muted, or does she still sing? Her melodies and anthems are missed throughout the land. The king’s been dead for too long now – how much longer until we get our true ruler back? I’ve stopped counting the days; I simply press my body up against the window nearest to the tower, hoping to hear a crescendo of music.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 05.01.2017 @ 10:20 pm


The speech was meant to be symbolic, but everyone took it literally. The real carnage started as soon as he said the word “carnage,” which he claimed was a metaphor. But the metaphor had grown arms and legs, and it wielded a sharp ax and a butcher’s cleaver and split the skulls of the rallygoers open like rotten fruit. Their innards spilled out, but only in a trickle – there wasn’t much brain to begin with.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.30.2017 @ 7:47 pm


I wanted to believe that it was real. That it was happening. That the human race was standing on the precipice of something extraordinary. I didn’t want it to be faked or staged. And yet, there I was, staring at the multiple television screens suspended above my head. Above the population’s head. People all milling about like cattle as the propaganda entered through our ears and noses and came out from our mouths in artificial jubilation.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.29.2017 @ 8:32 pm


Would you like to try a combo today?

No, I’d rather not.

How about some fries? Or a beverage?

I’d really rather not.

Then why are you in our drive-thru, then?

To see your pretty face.

I think I’ll call security.


» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.27.2017 @ 7:57 pm


“Well?” growled Toby. “WELL? Now you understand what we’re dealing with?”

Henry frowned. He scratched at his grizzled gray beard, looking increasingly more uncomfortable in his tailored blue suit. “Okay,” he confessed. “So maybe I didn’t understand the exact scope of the incident…”

“Scope…? Motherf***er, we’re doomed! Our airline’s NEVER gonna recover from this!”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.26.2017 @ 11:11 pm


How many times would you always say how shock you are of the kings today? As they wade to their knees in the angry seas that they brewed up themselves, you’re in shock AND in awe? Don’t make me laugh; I am sick to my stomach, and the monarchs of tomorrow are ruining today. They drink beer from old buckets and tuck money in their pockets before blowing the kingdom sky high.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.25.2017 @ 6:42 pm


We ate cherry pie first and roasted chicken later, drinking wine in between intervals of gorging and gluttony, smoking old cigarettes found in the attic by Timothy when he started scavenging for hidden treasures. It all tasted like resin and sap in the end – even the fruit seemed aged and trapped in blobs of amber in our mouths.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.25.2017 @ 12:27 am


Watch the cars spin and swerve on a wet country road. Their dance is deadly. Their faces are scratched and bleeding. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows. Oil and rainbows! Their buck-toothed smiles go clickety-clack as they slow against the damp rails.

Stand at your window and sip your late night decaf as the build-up grows. The sirens whimper more than scream. Even the police cars are dragged into the choreography – they spin and they swerve and they dance.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.23.2017 @ 5:32 pm


“Honey.” His voice was syrupy like the very thing he was calling her. Honey. Golden and warm, dripping. “Do you know where you are?”

“No.” Her vision was fuzzy, like flecks of hairs suspended in front of her. The voice continued to ooze toward her.

“Where are your parents?”

“What parents?”

Mother. Father. Did it even really matter anymore?

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.22.2017 @ 7:33 pm


The vines grow in curled tendrils like sleeping snakes laden with precious fruit. Within a few hours, the men with browned faces and flat straw hats will walk out with their buckets and baskets, then disappear into the cool basement with their treasure in gleaming round purples and greens. The winemakers all stand at their barrels, waiting to crush the sweet flesh beneath their callused toes.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 04.21.2017 @ 8:36 am

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