Comments Posted By Belinda Roddie

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Sierra didn’t know how long she had been in the hospital. And when she asked, the nurses and doctors didn’t seem to remember. They acted as if she had always been there – always a part of the scenery, with the IV needle stuck deep into the crook of her emaciated arm, the continuous beeping of the heart monitor drilling itself into her brain like a parasite. She wanted to call her parents – but she couldn’t remember what their phone number was. Or where they lived. Or what they looked like.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 02.04.2018 @ 9:11 pm


How many of you believe in ghosts? Perhaps only a handful of the crowd you stand in at the bus stop, or in the line where you wait for your overpriced coffee? Or maybe you find more believers among the skeptics at museums, or in fancy restaurants, or walking along the pier? Maybe, if you believed hard enough, you’d be able to see me, smoking a cigarette I can’t taste and wearing a coat that no longer provides me warmth, perched where the sunset hits the back of the local grocery store.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 02.03.2018 @ 9:35 am


She told her father that she had stopped taking the pills. That they had made her more anxious than ever – more jittery, more fidgety, more obsessed with details. When he tried to force her back onto the prescription, she reacted the way any teenager in fear would – she ran. She ran with one backpack and a sandwich and left her cellphone at home, scaling the steps of a bus and counting how about seconds it took her to find an empty seat: Two.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 02.01.2018 @ 9:42 pm


Look at her, all smiles and sequins, skirt and sashay up to the big old Hollywood stage. She was nominated for six awards, you see – for acting, design, directing, and a screenplay that read like poetry. And don’t forget the visual effects and cinematography. She’s a one woman show – a bombastic box office boon. Just imagine all the champagne glasses dropping when she waltzes into the room.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.31.2018 @ 2:50 pm


I never thought I’d feel my body compromised by gamma rays. The acid rain didn’t have a chance to touch me before I crumpled forward. The ultraviolet violence made a wreckage of my feeble frame. Extinction was as imminent as blinking in the face of death. I knew that none of this was scientific, but sure, I digress. A dying individual is permitted to go off on tangents.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.29.2018 @ 9:19 pm


Once Roger started screaming at me, my response was practically automatic. I didn’t run; I didn’t flinch or pull away as if burned by an invisible flame. I didn’t freeze and let my body stiffen as if I had been dipped into amber and fossilized for future alien archaeologists. No, I was the person who reacted with…well, action. I chose “fight.”

So I hit him. And hard, too. He toppled over, the blood gushing from his nose as if it were a broken faucet, his words torn from his throat as he was too stunned to respond verbally.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.28.2018 @ 9:14 pm


There weren’t exactly any lessons to learn from this – at least, not any I could particularly fathom. In the end, I was bruised, battered, emaciated, and exhausted. My friends were equally as scraped up and starved. We stood in front of our mentor, who smiled as if the great challenge had turned us into far better adults than we could have imagined. But we were all still sixteen, and we were all still confused as to why it seemed that every bone in our body hurt.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.26.2018 @ 9:46 pm


I had jumper cables in the trunk of my car, but I also had two packs of beer, a bottle of wine, and three massive jugs of whiskey glowing amber and brown in the thin night lighting around me. The guy who needed his battery jolted stared curiously as I took the cables in one hand and a beer in the other.

“Gonna share?” he asked.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.26.2018 @ 7:43 am


Please don’t touch me there, sir. I’m very sensitive to physical contact. I feel every goosebump erupt from my skin like new volcanoes from a dry, epidermal ocean. I smell all the oils and grease on your body, and when you put your lips close to mine, the breath that emerges from between your teeth is like the gust of wind from a noxious storm, and I have to shield my face.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.24.2018 @ 9:20 pm


It was high time for a kiss and a crime on a starry, starry night. I was waiting with the guns and goods at the corner of Ninth and Hyde. She came running over with her hat tipped over, the brim covering her eyes. And we broke out of rank and into the bank and cast our luck like dice.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.23.2018 @ 6:03 pm


He was acting so strangely that I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to muffle the laughter. I wasn’t sure if he was drunk, or high, or sleep deprived, or all of the above. All I knew was that he was straddling the lamppost, gurgling and making other odd noises from the back of his throat. It wasn’t long until the sirens flashed on in reds and blues, and he wailed along with the moans of the police cars.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.20.2018 @ 5:14 pm


Twin? TWIN? I have one of those! She’s pretty cool. She lives in New York, and I could take her kidney if I needed it. Not that I would just take it; I mean if I was in the hospital, and I needed a kidney, then she could give one to me, no problem. My body wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference. It’d be like welcoming a part of the family home. Anyway, most of my students don’t know I have an identical twin sister, but hey – I’d consider her my best friend.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.19.2018 @ 4:33 pm


“Get us out of here!” screamed Ivan.

“I can’t!”

“Get us out of here NOW!”

“The door’s locked, you idiot!” bellowed Andy, who furiously jostled with the doorknob to prove it. Ivan and she were trapped in the basement of their stepfather’s house, and Ivan was already losing his mind.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.18.2018 @ 6:03 pm


We didn’t believe it was paradise then, and we sure as Hell don’t think it’s paradise now. We don’t see colors in this place anymore; everything is just choked in shawls of black and gray. We can’t remember with a sunrise used to look like; we can’t even tell when the sun sets anymore. We collect our seashells and glass on the shore, where the water leaves stains on the charred sheets of sand.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.17.2018 @ 5:03 pm


Charles wanted an order of fries with no salt. But every time he got a basket, those potatoes were grimy from the sodium. He threw a fit then, screaming at the top of his lungs, but the cashier was snot-nosed and bratty, and she had no interest in resolving the situation.

“How difficult is it to not pour salt onto French fries?” demanded Charles’ father, who was red in the face. “You need me to babysit you behind the counter? Or are you just being a jerk?”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.16.2018 @ 2:36 pm


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 you back isn’t set right.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 10.20.2017 @ 4:47 pm


You wonder how many of the cracks on your face are from the reflection or from the actual erosion of your features. You know you’ve been literally crumbling away for some time now; you were built from craggy earth and soft clay, after all. Now you see the flesh affected by the weathering of the winds. You are reshaped, reformed.

Your eyes hold up fairly well, though. Agates. Your mother’s pride and joy.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.13.2018 @ 12:24 pm


This is not the kind of life I was hoping to have. This is not the kind of environment I wanted to be a part of. Look – all the people’s faces are blurred. It’s like a camera caught their stare and turned their scared eyes into pixels. They shamble aimlessly about, tripping over divots in the road. I think I might disintegrate into a smudge on a lens, too.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.12.2018 @ 5:03 pm


I had a problem. A big one. I had been designing a game for six years now. I had coded it. I had illustrated it. I had written the story. Everything was falling into place. And then I told my friend to try downloading it from my computer. She had no luck.

“It won’t install,” she informed me.

“What? Why?”

“It says it’s corrupt?”

I stared. “How the Hell can the game be corrupt? I’ve been demo-ing it for the past week.”

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.11.2018 @ 1:09 pm


Watch him pretend to be cunning like a fox, or listen to him howl like he’s trying to be a wolf. I have no respect for a man who acts more like a rabid animal than a composed civilian. I have no respect for a man who drinks from the gutter and snarls at women who don’t respond to his whistles. He doesn’t have enough breath left in his body to blow down a straw house, but that’s due to all the years he’s smoked his brains out.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.10.2018 @ 11:14 am


The children were all hungry. The children were all tired. The children were all angry. The children were all wired. The children couldn’t sleep despite how sleepy they all were. They couldn’t keep their food down, even though their stomachs purred. The children cried, the children wailed, the children spat and screamed. And when they all at last dozed off, they never really dreamed. The children all stayed hungry, and yes, they all stayed tired. And not a moment’s rest for us, who drove on all the while.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.09.2018 @ 3:23 pm


Watch the anger melt from her face, and you will see a pattern. A pattern of regret, a pattern of guilt, a pattern of reconsideration. It’s a bit like a tartan if you visualize it – that back and forth of dark and light, of red and black. Reminds me of my Scottish heritage, only my ancestors didn’t hail from a clan, and so they wouldn’t have had a tartan to begin with. Still, watch her sit back down in her chair and control her breathing. She’s still frustrated, but she won’t tear you limb from limb now.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.08.2018 @ 4:12 pm


She’s gotten too used to sunlight, observing how natural gold leaves stains across very gray pavement that once used to be black as ink. Now when the rain falls, she stands beside her window, eyes wide, pupils dilated as her hands wander to the already smudged glass. Maybe it’s because she’s so young, and we’ve been in a drought for so long – but the experience of water falling from the sky is foreign to her. She may even believe it to be a miracle.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.07.2018 @ 11:30 am


I don’t know why we’re talking about this again. The words wind up meaning nothing if they’re repeated over and over without actual weight. We’re going around in circles, and we’re kicking up dirt and rain as we do so. The storm is thundering overhead, and I just want to go home. But you won’t quit. Not until you’ve said your piece a thousand times, as if it’ll change my mind.

I’ll collect my things in the morning. You’ll have to argue with the empty bedroom instead,

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.06.2018 @ 10:33 pm


Don’t leave the pass in the bathroom this time, and don’t look the hall monitor in the eye. I’ve heard he’s tried to assault three girls so far on their way back to their science classes. I’ve been carrying mace myself – do you have anything sharp on you? Anything to slice the horny bastard in case he gets too close. We’ve tried reporting him – no dice. Turns out, he’s the freaking principal’s SON.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.05.2018 @ 11:18 am


If you follow her up her obsidian tower, then she will offer you a golden bauble. But the gold is just painted on – the rest is sparkling, fooling pyrite. Still, if you open the bauble, you’ll be both stunned and horrified to see her tiny heart beating in its gleaming chambers. Still, she advises you not to take it home with you. It’s only to look at, only to marvel at. She is one of the last left – the ones who can be sustained without organs or flesh.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.04.2018 @ 11:26 am


There I was at the bus stop with my headphones on, when a man with three eyes ran screaming to me. He said he could see the hearts of all humanity, and they were burning darker and darker by the minute. He told me my heart was one of the last pure ones left, but in all honesty, that’s all I heard, because then my favorite song started rumbling in my ears, and I never pause that song unless it’s a personal emergency. So the man with three eyes howled helplessly as I rocked to the groove of my awesome tune.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.03.2018 @ 3:32 pm


“I can sense your aura.”

Amy blinked. “I’m…I’m sorry?”

The old lady in the purple shawl did not blink. Her eyes stared endlessly into Amy, like two mini-vacuums sucking away her soul. “Your aura is…cloudy and angry. Very dark. Grays and blacks. Is this something amiss in your life?”

Why were there any other seats on this bus? Amy looked out the window and felt her heart sink – she’d have to be with this lady for the next forty minutes.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.02.2018 @ 12:12 pm


I loved her, but only at a distance. I sent letters, but never signed with my name. I never tried to be creepy with what I wrote – I merely sent good wishes, seasons greetings, the occasional update on how the town was doing now that she was gone. I knew she didn’t want to hear from me, but perhaps, if I were merely a disembodied voice – a messenger – then she would accept my words. Maybe even treasure them.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 01.01.2018 @ 2:46 pm


We celebrate the new year on land that was stolen, eating food that would otherwise be wasted, drinking beverages that ought not to be imbibed. We reminisce on our successes because our failures cause us too much grief, unless said failures contributed to a positive element of our lives. We have wishes for the next year, but who knows if they’ll come to pass? For now, I have you, and I have me, and I have this bottle of bubbly, and I don’t want it to go flat.

» Posted By Belinda Roddie On 12.31.2017 @ 4:17 pm

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