My Cardboard Balcony

Just Before Sunset by Belinda Roddie Just before sunset, a woman arrived in our town, wide-brimmed hat slightly askew across her brow, as she took snuff and sighed at the sight of the tumbleweeds and blue walls of the sheriff's building. "Where's my badge?" she asked the deputy, and he, though no words slipped from him, handed it over. Tags - dog tags - hung from our new sheriff's neck. No tassels or spurs bedecked her worn down boots. She headed straight into the office as we watched and settled in, ignoring looks exchanged among the townsfolk. Nothing crass was said, nor did anyone question it. In fact, outlaws wouldn't like it one bit!

Starchy Consequences by Belinda Roddie Ricky stole potatoes from Mr. Bennett's farm. His punishment: Death.

Not Fair by Belinda Roddie legs aching just from sleeping arms sore just from holding you who knew that rest and unconditional love could wear me out even more?

Hot Rod by Belinda Roddie The car stopped, the trunk opened, and scorching steam escaped.

Razzle Dazzle by Belinda Roddie Rhinestone fingers try to grip onto something a bit more extravagant, a bit less forced, a bit more real, but the real gem is formed under the worst pressure - heat, rage, sorrow, regret - and doesn't require sequins.

So Stinking Cute by Belinda Roddie Fact: Sometimes your cat's just an adorable little trash baby.

Shiny by Belinda Roddie As a child,  I was most disappointed to discover one day that rainbow stags are not supremely fabulous male deer, but instead beetles. Now, as an adult, I find rainbow stags to be equally as fabulous as my prior juvenile notions.