Handle by Belinda Roddie Sarah makes a move for the car door. She pulls the handle, and it comes off right between her fingers. Like a dislocated bone, it dangles from her. And the car won't open. Come to think of it, it doesn't even look like a car anymore. It looks like a decaying predator. Something that fossilized far too soon. Something that dared to live when everything in the world demanded that it die.

Camper by Belinda Roddie We drove our camper up north so we could see the stars above the Pacific ocean. But it was hotter than Satan's asshole, and so we found a cheap motel with decent air conditioning and stayed there for a good six days. We wouldn't go outside unless we used the swimming pool, and even then, the so-called chlorinated water had a tinge that didn't seem appropriate. 

Shutters by Belinda Roddie Close the shutters and lock the doors. Camouflage with the walls and floors. Pray to a god that doesn't exist and wish for a death that doesn't persist. For the shadows will enter without need of permission. And they'll enter your soul with a simple incision.

Kicked by Belinda Roddie Oscar had been kicked out of school, kicked out of his family house, kicked out of every establishment that would even dare to serve him a drink stiffer than his own neck. So he wandered. He carried his transient bones in a backpack from one edge of the state to the other, taking everything from greyhounds to trains. No one would take him in, save for the rickety wheels of locomotives and dying public transit.

Accurate by Belinda Roddie To call me a mega procrastinator who had too many ideas and actually plenty of time, but not the actual capacity to execute on said ideas and properly utilize any of said time, and who also spent most of that time either distracting themself from their inevitable death or wallowing in that rather enticing existential dread? Yeah. I'd said such an accusation is fairly fucking accurate.

Retreat by Belinda Roddie We were forced to retreat at Ham's Summit, leaving trails of blood and sweat behind as we pushed through falling bodies and clouds of gunpowder and smoke. I had been injured in both arms, and Trey was bleeding profusely from his neck. Luckily, he survived, but not without the trauma and the massive scar just below his jawline - curved like a cursed crescent moon.

Thoughtful by Belinda Roddie Sally thought her gift from thoughtful, but Gerry knew the truth. It was thought less, tact less, emotion less, that lump of bruised quartz wrapped up in cheap Christmas paper. It wasn't even Christmas - it was July! Why use snowman bullshit for this? But, apparently, it was cleansing for the soul. And Gerry knew that their soul would be cleansed once that sad excuse for a birthday present was tossed into the garbage.