Hope Linter

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2022

Stories (35)

35 Stories

488 karma pts

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ā€œMeeting My DoppelgƤngerā€ by Hope Linter

ā€œI saw someone, who looks exactly like you,ā€ Janine, a friend in my running group said. She sat kittycorner to me at the end of the large dark table in the back of Starbucks. I nodded, deep breathing, I didnā€™t like being at that end, closest to the washrooms with the exit doors at the other end of the cafe. In fact it was a phobia of mine, Iā€™d mentioned to Janine and a couple of others, but Iā€™d made light of it myself, ...

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ā€œArmour too Fine for Slaying a Dragonā€ by Hope Linter

Humming, Nebneb polished his bronze helmet and breastplate and used a special brush to clean out and polish all edges and crannies. Hours passed by in moments, and sometimes heā€™d be in a position so long, heā€™d get stiff and have to move around. He held the breast plate up to admire its shine, and met the stern reflection of his father, chief Elbisnopser, of their tribe, Nogard Sreyals.Ā  ā€œYouā€™ve been polishing yo...

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ā€œWe're Going Where?ā€ by Hope Linter

Tom sprawls on his couch, a bag of opened cheesies in his lap, and his hands covered in orange greasy dust. A ping-pong tournament is playing on his television. Heā€™s content, relaxing, and doesnā€™t care who will win.Ā  He snacks and grows drowsy, and the bag drops from his hand, as he nods off to the intermittent drone of the commentators and the clacking of paddles fades from his awareness.Ā  With a start,...

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ā€œJeremy's Sliverā€ by Hope Linter

Jeremy felt a prick on his finger, the one next to his thumb. He stared at the redness surrounding the hair-thin bit of wood sunk into the fleshy pad of his fingertip. It hurt, and he tried to pull it out with his fingers, but couldnā€™t get hold of the tiny end. ā€œIā€™ll get it out.ā€ Missy left the TV room where they were building a small house out of wooden popsicle sticks and returned with a large pair of black sc...

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ā€œA Ride to the Airportā€ by Hope Linter

ā€œIā€™ll give you a ride to the airport,ā€ George said, while we were having coffee at Happy Bean Cafe in the West End of Vancouver. ā€œOh, thatā€™s wonderful,ā€ my boyfriend Tom said.Ā  ā€œThatā€™s kind of you, George, but we donā€™t want to put you to all that trouble. Itā€™s too early and weā€™ll preorder a taxi.ā€ Iā€™d done research and the buses wouldnā€™t be running until after six, which would be too late for us. ...

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ā€œHaro's Crushā€ by Hope Linter

I have taken some artistic license with names and other aspects of the Japanese culture. The Ryōan-ji Temple with itā€™s famous Zen garden does exist in Kyoto. Eighteen-year-old Hiro Ito contemplated the perfectly raked white gravel in the karesansui or dry landscape of the famous Ryōan-ji Zen garden in his hometown of Kyoto. Wooden floor boards embued with the earthy scent of generations and smo...

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ā€œGreen Lawn Vendettaā€ by Hope Linter

Samantha waited to take revenge on her neighbor, Madison, for reporting her to the city, for watering her lawn on an alternating off day. Just because Madisonā€™s husband, Tom, got elected onto the city council, didnā€™t make her the law on the street.Ā  She turned up the water volume on her garden hose, when Madison stepped out onto her porch, but Madison turned to yell back into the cavernous house, ā€œCasey, Barry, ...

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ā€œA Mexican Standoffā€ by Hope Linter

The following story may have errors of accuracy in regards to Mexican references, where I chose vocabulary to serve the story.Ā That said, I was inspired by the beautiful culture and language. Miguel Cartez glanced at the shipping bill of lading the policeman held out in front of him. A fly buzzed around the light bulb of his Italian luxury bankerā€™s desk lamp. The policemanā€™s black cap with the ...

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ā€œYou have to be my Child for a day.ā€ by Hope Linter

ā€œSo whatā€™s the catch?ā€ I asked, thumbing through my paperback book, happy to hear my daughter Lillianneā€™s glee, instead of her moping, after finding Bubby, her birthday rabbit, lying in his cage, dead. Of all the stupid things for her seventh birthday, Iā€™d surprised her with a fragile, mortal creature, when her mother, my wife, had passed away a year ago. I put my book down.Ā  She clapped her hands. ā€œYou have to ...

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ā€œSaving the Stray Catā€ by Hope Linter

Light rain fell on the city pavement, as a black cat with white paws brushed by Sandra, outside Hamptonā€™s Drug Store.Ā  ā€œHere kitty, you look just like my old Tinkerbell.ā€ Magnetized by the catā€™s topaz eyes, Sandra held out her palm, but the cat turned its head and sniffed the air, and ran off, past a skinny boy juggling, and an old man in a tartan skirt playing a harmonica.Ā  Sandra pulled her baseball ca...

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ā€œThe Lureā€ by Hope Linter

Sun, between noon and sunset and sky a dusky blue.Ā Children, in action, under the water sprinkler in park, shouts of laughter, squeals of excitement.Ā Droplets of water on warm flesh, on hair, on tongues, in eyes. Jillianne, happy, open wide smile, flashing white teeth, sandles off, barefeet on grass, cartwheels through the sprinkler rain,Ā unaware of the woman, lonely and alone on the wooden bench under the maple...

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ā€œAll My Dollsā€ by Hope Linter

ā€œI have so many dolls, I canā€™t count them all,ā€ Anna said to her best friend Candice, while they were being driven home from kindergarten by Candiceā€™s mom. ā€œCan I have one of your dolls? I only have two.ā€ Candice said, pulling at her seatbelt strap. ā€œCandice. You shouldnā€™t be asking; two dolls are enough for you, and if you didnā€™t keep losing them, youā€™d have more,ā€ her mom said, looking in her rearview ...

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ā€œA Wrench thrown at Heartacheā€ by Hope Linter

Zed stared at the email, knowing once heā€™d put it down, heā€™d never look at it again. Strings of letters strung together, forming words, forming sentences, so disconnecting. Jessie, the woman who had been the love of his life, was no more the flesh and blood woman in his arms, her face and her words, now mere pixels on his screen, distintegrating.Ā  He hurled the computer into his backyard, symbolic, he knew, but ...

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ā€œWalking the Plankā€ by Hope Linter

SJ, as she called herself, not Sarah Jane, as christened, finished working on the bank of computers in the Georgia Community Center Library.Ā  ā€œAll done. You shouldnā€™t have any trouble,ā€ she told the librarian, an older woman with anxious gray eyes. ā€œThank you for coming.ā€ The librarian fidgeted with the pen in her hand. ā€œAh,ā€¦ Iā€™d feel better if you wouldnā€™t mind sitting with me while I log in and check t...

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ā€œFinding Nerveā€ by Hope Linter

1974, Courtney, BC. John and Adam, tenth graders, lingered against the wall of the gymnasium with the other boys, while the girls waited on the other side. Dimmed lights and amplified rock music changed the gym into a sock hop. John rubbed at a mark on his indoor running shoes with spit and straightened the hem of his new Lee jeans heā€™d ironed for the dance. His mom had told him how she had worn socks whe...

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Author bio

I'm enjoying the good life in Vancouver, BC where I appreciate nature, walking, biking and more. Writing has always been an interest and I'm grateful to now have the mental headspace to pursue it.

Shortlisted 1 story ā­ļø

Contest #188
You have to be my Child for a day. ā€“Ā read story