My Cardboard Balcony

Futile Resuscitation by Belinda Roddie There's been an accident on 101, just off the last exit leading to the lips of my hometown. Thin kisses linger on the steering wheel, while the head bleeds sweet love, love, love. I perform CPR on the passenger, and the rain comes down like an unnecessary blanket. A cold one, too. My hands are blue, and the exertion makes my own ribs feel bruised. It's okay, I whisper to an unhearing ear. You're okay, we're okay, we're going to be okay. The traffic will keep flowing forward like the river in a clock. Tick, tock, one, two, three, breathe, rasp, wheeze. By the time the paramedics arrive, my body's grown numb. I seek refuge in my own tired sedan. After answering some questions, I gesture toward the sky. The storm's beginning to roar, and I'd like to get home. I don't like tempting fate.

Arvey breathed deeply and felt her body relax. In literal uncharted territory in the west, she was facing uncharted territory of her own. Her fingers stretched out for something to grab, and that something was the front of her companion's shirt. Pulling her toward her. Feeling her mouth pressed against her chapped lips. Quinoni smelled like tobacco and tasted like sweet, dried sap.

"I asked you a question," growled Tony, "and you still haven't given me an answer. Why are you being such a bitch?" Leslie set down her beer glass. She had dealt with some men who couldn't take no as a response, but this guy was vying for the Top Douchebag of the Year. "I," she said crisply and sharply, "don't have to say anything to do.:"

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.