Harlow Jones

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2020

Stories (67)

67 Stories

754 karma pts

?

“Bowling” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #104

The sun was setting on a Sunday night. As she had done every week of her career thus far, she had to recharge this evening. It was her ritual. The candle was lit. The blanket was tucked in around her feet, legs, and hips. Her favorite sandwich cookies sat on the end table beside her, and the TV remote sat ready in her hand. The newest episode of the fall’s juiciest reality TV programming began as she indulged in the first bite of her nighttime snack. Snuggling up to the blanket, she was molded to her sofa. Knock. Knock. Knock. “What the h...

0 comments 0
Read story

“The Drive” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #103

Hands gripped the steering wheel. Eyes scanned the road. Breathing quickened, and the use of profanities increased. She was supposed to be there 30 minutes ago. Work ran late because Chuck forgot to submit the quarterly reports on time. Rushed, she settled for a blotchy face of make-up and uncombed hair. Cruising down the country roads to her partner’s parents’ vacation cabin, she took a wrong turn and had been wandering since. She turned off the radio. Not even music could soothe her. The only thing she needed she could not find: a sign fo...

1 comment 1
Read story

“Ms. Mimosa” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #102

She had finished her third mimosa of the morning when she was called upon to help get the bride dressed. As her friend stepped into the ballgown she would have never chosen to wear, she thought of her boyfriend. With lowered inhibitions, the idea of sneaking off to the groomsmen’s chamber grew more appealing. However, she had a duty to serve: to support her friend in giving up her freedom for a shared health insurance policy and ungrateful children to worsen global warming. With ten minutes before line-up, Ms. Mimosa got dressed. No one els...

1 comment 1
Read story

“Subject 47” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #101

“Help! Please help me!” Not one person flinched. All uniformed in the same gray suit. She had no way to distinguish them from each other. Who were the doctors? Who were the business executives? Who was in charge? “Help! Please help me!” She started marking her cell walls with tallies for each day, but she had no sun to confirm and no room for more ticks. Her days followed one schedule with no variation: wake up, yell for help, eat her first meal, study the people, eat her second meal, yell for help, study, eat, yell, sleep. For the first f...

0 comments 0
Read story

“Family Dinner” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #100

“Hello? We’re here!” My father announced our entrance. We were met with unsynchronized greetings. A “hello” from the dining room, a “good evening” from the family room, and a grunt from the kitchen. My aunt beat a pot of mashed potatoes as if they insulted her. Despite her carpal tunnel and arthritis, her mother attempted to wash dishes. “Mom, what are you doing? Stop. Sit down. You’ll hurt yourself.” “I’m fine.” “No, you’re old. Sit down.” “Hi, Nana!” My sister swept in for a hug, as I made my way to the dining room. I set down the carr...

0 comments 0
Read story

“Something Nice” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #99

“Cooler?” “Check.” “Music?” “Check.” “Snacks?” “What?” “Do we have snacks?” “Yeah. Check.” “Great! Let’s go!” My sister and I planned this road trip six months ago. That’s a commitment you can’t raincheck, so I grin and navigate like Sacagawea. “What do you want to listen to?” “Whatever.” With the music of the mid-2000s now playing, I’m transported back to when boys didn’t matter, and monogamy was subtly preached to ten-year-old me. Thanks, Disney. Now, I sit on my hands, never wishing I engaged with feminist literature. I like t...

5 comments 5
Read story

“The Vanilla Candle” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #98

“How difficult would it be to screw all my furniture into the floor?” Samantha contemplated while washing the dishes for the third time. "Maybe glue would be better." Gawking at the clock, she moved on to fluff each pillow twice. She then lit her eucalyptus-spearmint candle. It was made for stress relief but was probably just a placebo. Rushing into meditation was counterintuitive, but her definition of productivity prioritized quantity over quality. Legs crossed and eyes closed, she repeated, “Have fun. Have fun. Have fun.” Last week, she...

2 comments 2
Read story

“3 in the Morning” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #97

The melatonin isn’t working, so I find myself staring at the neon sign across the street. I can’t tell you what it says. That’s not what I’m thinking about right now. Instead, I can tell you about the morning light that filters through my blinds to wake him up. That light was his alarm clock, but he doesn’t start his days here anymore. I haven’t slept well in three weeks. My mind can’t settle. The spinning wheel of thoughts overrides all my attempts at tranquility. Meditation, nope. Reading before bed, tried it. Yoga, made me cry. I forgot ...

0 comments 0
Read story

“The Parking Lot” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #92

Could that droplet of condensation move any slower? “What will you have, sweetie?”  Damn. All that time I spent flipping through the menu, and I forgot to decide on what food I was going to pick at throughout this torture. “ I’ll have a pulled pork sandwich. Thank you.” “Are you okay with coleslaw and beans on the side?” I would’ve order something else if I knew there’d be follow-up questions. “That’s fine.” Once Delilah scurried off to the barbeque chain’s computer kiosk, my father gulped down his sweet tea, as my mother freshened...

0 comments 0
Read story

“Beatrice” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #84

Day 1 “Mother, this is absurd.” “You’ll be fine. Just read those books of yours.” Slam. Mary Wollstonecraft and I will be the best of friends by the end of the year. *** Day 8 “She’s rather large, isn’t she?” Lord Boone, how charming. “Yes, but that only means she’s bound to bear and nurse many healthy children.” “She looks like she already has.” If I keep my eyes on the floor, do you think he could see me roll them? *** Day 27 Mother and Dierdre fought again this morning. How dare she sneak another pastry on my plate. With the o...

0 comments 0
Read story

“If She Could” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #79

“Come on, Mom. You have to.” “I don’t want to, you bitch!” Despite her age and condition, she ran away like a kid having discovered their ability to sprint. My mother’s unoccupied shower seemed to be the escape I needed. The steam, the running water, the white noise. But with dinner to make and medicines to take, my haven had to wait.  When I was a little girl, my mom always promised to love me no matter what. She made that promise waiting with me at the bus stop, reviewing my report cards, tucking me in at night. Through my teenage p...

2 comments 2
Read story

“Thoughts on a Proposal” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #74

“Rachel, will you marry me?” When I was a little girl, my mother taught me this trick to help me make decisions. She said that you can flip a coin. While the coin is still in the air, your mind or your heart or your gut or whatever you want to call the decision-making part of your brain will tell you what you want, or what you hope the coin will tell you. At this moment, with Joe staring back at me, I can’t find a single coin. Joe is such a good guy, and I’m not just saying that to make me feel better about who I’ve chosen as my significan...

3 comments 3
Read story

“A New Leader, A New Woman” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #72

“We have abolished the outdated institutions. We have banished the sick in power,” the televised rebellion roared with Alessandra Rosario-Lopez leading the charge. “We have a new order to establish. We have new leaders to discover ourselves, without money or corruption to determine our future. After years of oppression, we finally have the freedom to make our own nation!” “Hell yeah, we wo!” Farrah slurred. No one was with her to smell the tequila on her breath or to hold back her hair come two hours. Just her, drinking for two. “Once agai...

4 comments 4
Read story

“The Gelatin Powder” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #71

A young woman with a Superwoman stance to rival its founder eyed the bakery before her. Despite her being overworked, her uniform was as crisp as this morning’s winter winds. It always was. “They completely shattered the door and made a mess of the whole place just to steal a cupcake and a tub of gelatin powder.” Her squinted eyes, pursed lips, and cocked head were the holy trinity of her concentration. Then, her work phone rang. “Officer Morton speaking.” “It’s the lab. We got back the results on the powder.” The voice stopped. With her ...

2 comments 2
Read story

“The Colossal” by Harlow Jones

Submitted to Contest #66

I didn’t like how beautiful a day it was for people to die. Beyond the capital’s limits, I imagined sunshine blanketing fields of birds and butterflies, little wings fluttering away without a clue in our broken and devastated world that people had made plans to watch their neighbors die today. I wasn’t sure if I was walking myself or if the crowd was just pushing me along. I didn’t want to be there, so my mind let itself go back home to bake bread with my mother, while my feet continued their dirge. I thought of kneading dough as the surrou...

0 comments 0
Read story

Author bio

A writer exploring mental health and relationships