Comments Posted By Belinda Roddie

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Tim felt like he couldn’t leave his job because he didn’t want to lose his benefits. But at the same time, his job had impacted him so negatively that he needed to use his health benefits to survive. But if he left his job due to the toxicity of it, he’d lose his health benefits…that he was using because of the toxicity of his job.

Thank God he didn’t drink to cope anymore. He swallowed a mouthful of ginger beer straight from the bottle and grimaced.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 02.07.2019 @ 7:17 pm


Sometimes, I wish I could relive my own wedding – all the colors and the music and cheering as I kissed my bride, and we held our hands up triumphantly in the afternoon light, fingers woven together, hearts now intertwined. I’d love to go back to days in which I felt warm, and calm, and safe – when little demons weren’t gnawing at my stomach and heart, and I could keep food down easier, like the amazing catering at the reception.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 02.05.2019 @ 7:11 pm


Feeling helpless is akin to drowning: you feel the water rise up to your lips, and when you breathe in, all you taste is salt and seaweed and all the life that somehow flourishes in the deep. But you can’t inhale water. Your lungs fight you, and you’re left to gasp and splutter and kneel on the cement. Everything is cold in your mouth.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 02.04.2019 @ 9:52 pm


Michelle Ferris’s popular book was adapted into an Oscar-winning film, which was adapted into a novelization, which was adapted into an HBO mini-series, which was expanded by other authors in sequels and companion novels, which was ultimately criticized for going too far beyond the source material, which was eventually lost in the sands of time, but meanwhile, Michelle Ferris was keeping to herself in her small cottage on the edge of New Mar, writing something entirely new.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 02.02.2019 @ 9:04 pm


“This was supposed to be premium value.”

“What was?” I asked with a sneer. “The cheap steak, or the even cheaper bubbly?”

“Honestly, cheap bubbly is way better than cheap steak,” remarked Cassius from where he sat in the corner, caressing an empty bottle of what used to be red wine. “Don’t ever go cheap with red meat, man. It’ll f***. You. Up.”

“PREMIUM VALUE!” screamed Martha.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.31.2019 @ 8:56 pm


To find joy in cinema – to feel laughter press its fingernails deep into your stomach, hurt you but at the same time uplift you – to hold back tears when tragedy strikes. You know, deep down, that it’s all fiction – all part of the great screenwriter and director’s plans. But now you just stare at a screen, and the people talking in front of you are simply silhouettes of loud static.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.29.2019 @ 9:54 pm


Maybe I should have been a starving artist. Maybe I should have tried out theater, or art, or photography. Maybe I should have risked dying young from lack of health insurance and just lived vicariously through cheap fast food, thrift store clothes (not because I’m trying to be cool), and crashing on friends’ couches. Maybe I should have been a creative mooch. Because this other life ain’t cutting it for me.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.28.2019 @ 8:11 pm


I offer my servant a drink. She takes it gladly, sips slowly, savors the tartness of the nectar as it works it way down her throat and into the abyss that is her stomach. She sighs as it settles. Then, I offer her my seat. She takes that gladly, too.

She is beautiful in the sunlight from the window. She lies prone on the divan, feet bare, shoulders also uncovered.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.27.2019 @ 4:54 pm


You want the scenery to be pristine. You want it to match the foreground, make it pop, make it stand out in more ways than one could originally perceive. Because of this, you can’t decide on a backdrop. You’ve tried all sorts of colors and patterns – physical, digital – but none of them seem to match the hue of his eyes. Or complement the shape of his jaw. Or pronounce the curl of his lips as he smiles with another secret hiding behind his tongue.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.26.2019 @ 10:03 am


I wanted to play video games with my girlfriend, but all of my games had been either stolen by my drunk cousin or scratched to high heaven, and the controllers wouldn’t work properly because the cords had been bent or snapped or chewed up by my cat Timmy (who I loved dearly, but c’mon, you little furry brat!). She suggested that we go to Burt’s house, as he had the most recent hot console.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.24.2019 @ 9:40 pm


Walter plays the cello, while Zelda plays the flute. The cellist looks best in a floral dress, and the flutist is good in a suit. They perform conciertos together, to filled up houses and halls. And once the applause has finally died down, they celebrate at galas and balls. They drink champagne and smile before going home at first light. And they’ll practice their latest pieces until the dawn mutates into night.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.23.2019 @ 10:09 am


Watch me, son: I’ll show you how it’s done. Retrieve the book, scan it in the machine. Then you get to take it home, but only for a few weeks, and then you have to bring it back.

So read it quickly, my boy – but savor it. Enjoy the adventure on the pages. Once you’re done, we can return it for another tome. See, this is one of the last havens we have in this small, humble town – a chance to be surrounded by books without needing to pay an arm and a leg for them.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.21.2019 @ 4:24 pm


We looked at everything when it came to the championship brackets. We checked the rosters. We checked the stats. We checked both individual performance and team effort. And in the end, we had an idea of who would most likely head to the finals.

“I’m just saying,” I told my buddies over a tankard of ale at Mox’s Tavern, “when you have experience as a dragon slayer, you’re gonna do well in the beast bouts. Especially when you’re a damn good swordsman.”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.19.2019 @ 7:32 pm


Everyone likes to say that I don’t have the courage to confront my problems. I ignore them, they claim with a pointed finger and a standard accusatory tone; I just pretend they’re not there, sweep everything under the rug. Well, why the rug, out of curiosity? I mean, my floors are all hardwood, and the carpeting upstairs can’t have anything swept under it. How about I keep my problems in an old empty vodka bottle instead, like preserving dying insects, and I enjoy watching their exoskeletons slowly decay in the sunlight from my kitchen’s bay window?

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.18.2019 @ 11:55 pm


“Hey, man. I got the pizza.”

I look up from my newspaper. “Wow,” I intone. “That was quick. Slow day at the Big Pepperoni?”

“Nah,” replies Marcia with a grin. “I went to Slice Of Life instead. Their pizza’s cheaper, but also way better. Dig in!”

Skeptical, I stand up and retrieve some cheese goodness from the box. Already, the dairy actually looks real; good start.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.17.2019 @ 3:32 pm


I find her swaying, upright, in the dining room, with all the light on, all the candles lit, and all the windows open – which sweeps in the rain like wet, translucent confetti, making itself at home in our tiny domain. I approach her; she’s asleep. Of course. This is not the first time I’ve seen her in this state. And when I touch her, she moans. She is, at first, incoherent. I do not understand her.

“Um…pardon, love?”

Then she becomes insistent; frustrated, even. “I am STEEPING the f***ing TEA!”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.15.2019 @ 4:13 pm


I’m sitting in my room, a headache coming due to frustration alone, listening to pseudo-classical music that leaves no real impact on anyone’s memories. I wish I had the option of walking away, but as of now, I must be calculating and careful. God, to have the luxury of recoil! To be able to step back without leaving cracks on the sidewalk!

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.13.2019 @ 10:45 pm


I finish my hike with you with a smile, a bark-scratched jacket, torn jeans and muddy shoes. After I wash the leaves out of my hair with shampoo, I nestle my tired body down on the couch with you. My bones realign eventually, and I brew enough tea to put both you and me to sleep. The aphrodisiac comes when Mother Nature’s kiss is hard to beat, but I’ll take it – it’s perfect for me.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.12.2019 @ 7:55 pm


You see, this fairy tale does not end with, “Happily ever after.” The prince transformed remains a beast, and the damsel remains permanently asleep. Still, she dreams, though not of pretty things; she sees twisted horses with horns and creepy merry-go-rounds. She smells grease and mangy wet wolf’s hair and burning sulfur. And she heard, most defined of all, screams.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.11.2019 @ 12:07 pm


Rex worked his ass off to get to the finals, but he didn’t even qualify for the semis. And as he threw his temper tantrum in the locker room later, I knew that there was no way I could comfort him. Rex had always been fast, but his stamina had always been garbage. He could sprint, but he couldn’t keep the pace. He’d be left in the dust a mere one minute or so into the race, and he just couldn’t handle knowing just how much more he had to work on.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.10.2019 @ 10:52 am


Jerome worked overtime for the third day in a row, and when he walked back to his apartment, he found, to both his horror and resignation, that he had been robbed. His TV had been stolen, his desktop computer swiped. The remains of his clothes were strewn across the worn down carpet of his bedroom. In fact, the only thing the robbers didn’t seem to grab was his cat, Lily, who had hidden under the bed in fear as they did their work.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.09.2019 @ 12:54 pm


The dishwasher broke in our house, so Amos had to wash every dish by hand, and trust me, there were a LOT of them. We had pots from all the potatoes we boiled and mashed, on the baking pans for the chicken, all the tiny little wooden salad bowls coated in all varieties of dressings. He slaved away at the sink for over two hours; I was surprised his skin didn’t slough off in the scalding water.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.08.2019 @ 7:57 am


“Back in my day,” groaned the old man, “we listened to vinyls, not these newfangled apps and Spotifies!”

“And back in my day,” replied the millennial, “we listened to cassettes and CDs. But you don’t hear me bitching 24/7 about iPhones and online music apps.”

“Speak for yourself!” sniped the hipster, whose jeans were so tight that they were cutting off blood circulation in his thighs.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.07.2019 @ 7:49 am


The hotel says, “No Vacancy,” but I know that’s a lie. I know they keep six rooms empty at all times. Precisely six. And do you know why? The owner’s paranoid. Delusional. That’s why. He thinks keeping six rooms empty will keep the Devil at bay. He thinks Satan needs six rooms for his demon crew, and if he lets them sleep for free, they won’t come and harm his family anymore. He’s crazy, I tell you. That guy is crazy.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.06.2019 @ 12:01 am


I love puppies. Puppies are great. Puppies make everything better. When they get bigger, they are big puppies, and when they get old, they are old puppies. I call them old puppers, though. I pet them and hug them, but only the latter if they like it. I love puppies of all colors and sizes. And they love me, too.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.04.2019 @ 6:36 pm


Marty died of toxic shock syndrome after getting surgery on his gallbladder, and everyone was stunned by it. We had never expected something like this to happen: Marty had been strong, healthy, and so full of life. To lose him so young and in so vibrant a state was too much for my mother, Patty, who packed a single suitcase and traveled to her home city of Winnipeg, where she lived for the rest of her life.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.03.2019 @ 10:40 am


It’s a new year, so let’s tell stories that we can pretend we’ve never heard before. Our daughters will fall in love and weave dead flowers into each other’s hair. We’ll watch them grow and get used to holding hands, while your husband pours us glass after glass of cold iced tea. Even in the chilly winter mornings, it tastes so sweet, and the lemon makes my soul pucker up in all the right ways. Don’t worry: I’ll pay for our daughters’ wedding.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.01.2019 @ 5:33 pm


This is the part where I close the door to 2018 and do the latch so that it can’t be opened again. I know, it’s simultaneously a really weird but also really clichéd metaphor for it. I guess you’d have to close the door no matter what, given how time works. And I’m not a Time Lord, so I can’t exactly revisit anything.

Point. I had a point. Happy New Year, everyone. Hope this one sucks less.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 12.31.2018 @ 11:13 am


I called the police after hearing glass break at my neighbor’s house. Instead of a smashed window, however, it was an empty wine bottle that had made the sound, and by the time the officers arrived, Mr. Pollack was kneeling against the wall, forehead pressed against the plaster, a precise stream of red flowing from the exposed back of his head.

Mrs. Pollack was nowhere to be found.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 12.29.2018 @ 11:59 pm


Zebediah’s retribution was swift, and yet, it was completely inefficient. For the rebellion continued, and the blades were sharpened by sunrise, and the entire swarm of the disenchanted soon took over the palace of golden bricks. The emperor, at this point, was pointless. He sat on his throne and watched as the windows of his fortress were shadowed, accepting the fact that the edifice would ultimately become his tomb.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 12.28.2018 @ 11:47 pm

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