Mindy Reed
Bio
Mindy is an, editor, narrator, writer, librarian, and educator. The founder of The Authors Assistant published Women of a Certain Age: Stories of the Twentieth Century in 2018 and This is the Dawning: a Woodstock Love Story in June 2019.
Stories (46/0)
White Out
Why didn’t I leave Tuesday? What am I going to do? She paced the cabin and watched as the blizzard became a white out. “If I’d heeded the warning, I wouldn’t be stuck now.” She called Liz and said, “I’m not going to make it to Thanksgiving. I can’t see passed the deck.” The signal wavered and then went dead, stopping all communications into Estes Park. Then, the cabin lost power and she was plunged into darkness. Clutched with fear, she made her way to the door. Something jounced her back.
By Mindy Reed6 months ago in Fiction
Invitation
When her attention returned to the gentleman at her table, Arthur felt alone again. He searched his memory for a line. As a veteran actor, he should be able to conjure up one line that described how he felt. Their unspoken exchange had been about Florence. She and the man were trying to remember the name of the restaurant across the square from the Basilica. Arthur did not reply audibly, but his lips shaped the word, “Oliviero.”
By Mindy Reed9 months ago in Fiction
Hanging Out
By noon it was already one hundred degrees. It was expected to reach 112o in the next couple of hours. Racine needed to do something for her children. Ever since she was a kit, she’d been aware of the human encroachment. The homes and concrete only contributed to the oppressive heat. Water was scarce. The food in the garbage cans and compost bins used to be plentiful until locks were placed on them, making access to their contents impossible.
By Mindy Reedabout a year ago in Art
A Single Stamp
Jenny examined the small black notebook she had picked from the woman’s pocket. The alphabetized pages were blank—except one. “Jenny” and a phone number. She dropped it and a one-inch a square fluttered to the ground. She copied the phone number onto her palm, and returned the square to the notebook.
By Mindy Reedabout a year ago in Fiction
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