Hope Reynolds

“Floating, then Finding” by Hope Reynolds

It all started after I retired. I had spent the past thirty or so years working a 9 to 5, staying a regular, sleepy-minded machine in the same old city and the same old routine. I truthfully don't know we let ourselves live that kind of life. I know twenty year old me would have been aghast at the idea of such a repetitive and lack luster cycle of eat-sleep-work. But, if you let yourself float, you usually don't stop goi...

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“Happy” by Hope Reynolds

Mayah was enthralled with the idea of capturing a person or a place and putting it into a glass bottle.She treasured her olfactory sense deeply - for at any time she could experience nostalgia. Think of and long for a memory, place, or person. Be instantly connected and teleported to a smell it seems she shouldn't have remembered, with almost lightning speed and accuracy.And, for her, some smells were not just places and people and memories, but emotions.She wondered if other people wo...

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“Words” by Hope Reynolds

Submitted to Contest #76

She felt like a piece of trash. When a friend needed her after a break-up. And she actually was reaching out for connection, she did not know the blasted words to say (beyond the basic "I am here for you. That is not true").I just asked her questions, like I was an interrogator. Why don't I have the words? Why can't I be more encouraging?Maybe it is because she didn't believe in saying pretty little nothings she didn't really mean (most of the time, anyway; and not because she was harsh, unkind...

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“Bright or Obscure” by Hope Reynolds

Submitted to Contest #73

I am in line at the drive-through, waiting for lunch. It is busy, and the line is long. I guess it is a Sunday. It doesn't feel like a Sunday... but I am okay with that. Especially this time of year...-~-There we sat, side-by-side. It may have seemed ridiculous, but her and I liked to sit on the lake dock this time of year. It was our tradition. The first year we started, we brought Christmas lights and strung them out on the edges of the deck. And here we were again, our feet barely dangling over solid...

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“Patchwork” by Hope Reynolds

Submitted to Contest #69

There I was. Suitcase in hand. The awkward middle child, again.  The door opened. Mom's brown eyes greeted me. I had always imagined her warm eyes melting into my smile.  I stepped inside and plopped down on the couch, waiting for Hannah and Symphony. Sometimes I wondered why our parents named us like that.  "Where's Jarryd?" I asked. "I sent him out for cra...

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“A First, a Second, and Even a Third” by Hope Reynolds

Submitted to Contest #54

A young slave girl came towards my cell, bringing water and the meager ration they gave me. I figured it was their way of being cruel. Just enough to keep me going. Just enough to make me hungry. But cruel had only just begun.I rose up from the cold, stone floor and reached through the iron bars to accept the cup of water and the bowl of food. She looked both ways and began to talk quietly. "You know they are planning to crucify you!" She whispered shrilly.  I guzzled down...

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“Midnight ” by Hope Reynolds

Submitted to Contest #52

As I walked along the rough, cement sidewalk, the snow took on an almost translucent look, reflecting the clear, blue-grey sky above and crunching underneath my boots. I looked up briefly, glancing up at the glass store displays and back down at my burnt orange scarf, timidly making way for fellow passer-by's. Once they were past, I ventured to look up again. Just in time, I thought.

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