My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie Alas, poor worms! I knew them well. They now rest in my belly. Such sweet, sugary goodness. Reds blending into blues and yellows kissing greens. All tumbling down my esophagus only to be dissolved by the warring acid in my stomach. Where be your sticky huddles now, your nest in the plastic bag that you were packaged and sold? In my tummy. Yum. Now digest, you fools, and treat my body well. Gummy bears: You're next!  Bwahahaha! Man, I need to lay off the candy. This week's prompt was provided by Arden Roddie.

The actor I hired told me that she did all of her own stunts. I was floored. Never before had a movie, with the kind of physical and emotional actions it demanded, had a star performer not have a stunt double. "Are you sure?" I asked. She smiled. "If it's too uncomfortable, I won't. But I'm an Iraq veteran who did gymnastics for eight years before that. Just tell me what the expectations are, and I'll see what I can do."

Guys. We did it. We survived the first week of the new regime. It was not a fun week, mind you. Scientific minds were censored. Federal agencies were frozen. Refugees were banned, and a wall is going to be built with our tax dollars. The media has been declared an enemy of the state, and rogue groups have popped up to fight for a noble cause. That last part is more optimistic, but the fact that it even needs to happen is disconcerting, to say the least. But we survived! We made it through the chaos. We have a long, looooong way to go, but the little victories matter. My experience? The beginning of the week was dreadful. I wound up deactivating a couple of my social media accounts because I have grown addicted to looking up media and social events. I broke down in my wife's arms and admitted that I need to reevaluate how I care for myself. I have decided to focus on two issues starting from the local level: First Amendment protections and the LGBTQ+ community. If I can better...

Cerebral Liberty by Belinda Roddie You can wrap me in chains, but my brain's free.

There were three executives sitting in the boardroom when I entered. Two were men, and one was a woman. A young, beautiful, powerful woman. She wore a suit that was crisper and better fitting than her male counterparts, and she kept her curly brown hair swept up in the tidiest bun I had seen in my life. I was ready to swoon, but I had a presentation to start.

Whiskeys For Two by Belinda Roddie Whiskeys for two, please! Let the glasses spill because we're young and we are so in love. We'll drink two toasts to both calm and good will, until the music provokes us to move across the floor like gliding seraphim - holy, but flawed, our wings outstretched and bright in the small space. We'll feed on every whim like salty appetizers and a flight of brimming beers. This country is a mess, and our freedoms are waning, but for now, we still have a right to dance and caress each other on the lips and nose and brow without a right-wing maniac to break the permanent pact that we aim to make.

I met Tracey on her porch, fondly gazing at her as she walked out wearing quite the ensemble. I knew she could pull off red, but this was giving the Scarlet Pimpernel a run for his money - or moniker, for that matter. Her outfit was crimson embroidery and maroon ascot and burgundy boots, the only exception, color wise, being the brass buttons on her coat.