A.G. Scott

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jul, 2020

Stories (44)

44 Stories

3688 karma pts

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“What are the Odds?” by A.G. Scott

“Does the wind always blow this way?” asked the Eastern visitor, holding onto his hat.“No mister,” said the cowboy. “It’ll maybe blow this way for a week or ten days, and then it’ll take a change and blow like hell.”A tired chuckle followed, and then a profound silence. The odd pair looked with great envy upon the prairie grass, which with its two-foot roots had long been the great withstander of both storm and drought. After a moment of contemplation their eyes met suddenly, and then darted apart. No s...

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“No Time At All” by A.G. Scott

I won’t be at home for half as long as I’d like. There are some days here, in the house I grew up in, during which it occurs to me that living with my family forever wouldn't be so bad. Don’t let that get back to my little sisters—who bully me relentlessly—but it’s true. Maybe that admission is a little unbecoming, or at least makes me seem somewhat immature; but frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. This is the only place in the world where I love everybody and everybody loves me.That being said, ...

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“Kick Rocks” by A.G. Scott

Look at her, the pretty thing sitting in the windowsill, wistfully watching the passersby. She thinks she’s in some kind of movie, doesn’t she? Something well-framed and critically-acclaimed, a sweeping romantic epic à la Austen! But who is it she pines for, if not me? Our relationship, though I intend to sustain it, is a stubborn illusion; as the long days come and go, I am more and more convinced that il innamorato in her story is somebody else.“Lucy?” I whisper, as if my words ...

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“El Jefe” by A.G. Scott

I stood under a cone of cold white streetlight in the alley behind the Lucky Dragon, defiantly stretching my five-minute smoke break to a full ten. My coworker, Alan, leaned against the wall beside me, holding his cigarette between metallic chopsticks. We weren’t standing particularly close, but his hands absolutely reeked of the mild orange sauce our white patrons so often loved to order.A little grunt escaped me as my lower back seized.“Getting older?” asked Alan, watching me stiffen until the pain su...

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“A Stitch in Time” by A.G. Scott

Esther may have lacked vision, but she had things under control.Her two-room cabin was quaint and lumpy, its many surfaces purposefully marked by a variety of strange textures. Grippy appliances, thick shag carpeting, a corduroy chair. All of it was arranged to help Esther navigate her little world, which was, regrettably, devoid of light and color.Standing in the cramped kitchenette, she set her smudged steel teapot on the stove’s coiled burner and turned the dial. After a few clicks, the flame whisper...

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“You Talkin' To Me?” by A.G. Scott

The blue-white light pouring out of my cheap dual-monitor setup strained my eyes.“So,” said Chris, giving me a start. “Are you coming out tonight or what?” To be totally honest, I had forgotten I was on the phone. Half of my mind was wrapped up in unearned teenage angst (from binging the second season of Gilmore Girls) and the other half was hacking away at some annoying coding project (which, like most coding projects, could have been solved with a few better-phrased Google searches). Consumed by ...

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“The Turning Tide” by A.G. Scott

Her tired eyes, one blue and one green, bore into mine with characteristic curiosity.She is like a mirrored surface in the sun, so bright that I find it difficult to match her gaze. Still I try, but I find my mind addled with doubts, bogged down by dread. We haven’t discussed what’s next for us, except to agree that things must change, and soon.Without a word I turn and walk away, out of the dim bedroom and into the hall. I flip the switch by the door reflexively, leaving her in the dark, as I so often ...

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“The Death of You” by A.G. Scott

The 'RECORD' button on my old Panasonic resists; I have to put nearly all my weight on it in order to get it to click down. Finally the L.E.D. glows and the cassette tape starts to spin, permitting the examination to commence.“Deceased is a thirty-year-old female,” I say, my voice echoing in a cube of cold cement.Your body lies on a sterile metal table, bathing in ugly fluorescent light.Sudden movement in the basement window, high up on the wall, catches my eye. Against the moonlit fro...

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“Dinner and a Show” by A.G. Scott

1920.A sticky June dusk befell Chicago on the night Charlie Greene decided to cross the line.A young negro tip-toeing through the busy Loop district, Charlie paused in front of a department store and contemplated his reflection in the tinted display window. He worried for a moment about the stubborn soot stains on his brow and nose… but looking sharp wouldn’t make him any less out of place on this side of town. Coffee-colored skin was wont to stand out against the pale brickwork lining the downtown stre...

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“To Want, and To Be Found Wanting” by A.G. Scott

The office of the headmistress, located on the highest floor of the central tower, is the most intimidating room in all the Royal Arcanum. Everybody thinks so. The detailed sandstone suite is populated by strange artifacts, which are sure to break under too heavy a touch; by sacred tomes a handspan thick or more; and by grave old witches in cultish beige robes. It also happens to be my mother’s place of work, but never mind that. Today, she is not mama, but a dutiful disciplinarian. The look on her face is illegible.I lo...

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“The Firefly Fairy” by A.G. Scott

To the untrained eye, the Cartwright farm seemed a nice enough place. Peaceful, if a bit isolated. But looking closer, over Ma Cartwright’s neatly cultivated garden, past old Nana Cartwright in her rocking chair on the porch, one would notice something… unnerving. Not only did the sidings peel, lending the house a general air of long-going decay; not only were the windows covered in rows of thick oak planks; but the Cartwrights themselves carried a mangy, wild countenance, untrained by polite society.Little Grayson Cartw...

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“The World that Was” by A.G. Scott

Looking out on my moon-bleached land, I am overcome by a sense of dread. If indeed there is anyone else left in this world, and, truly, I wouldn’t know, consider this message an explanation of myself and a furtive glance in your general direction.Like you, I remember my mother telling me I was a special child. I do believe she meant it, and meant well, but if I had one wish, I would go back and ask her precisely what she meant by “special”. Part of the problem here is that, although her words stick with me, I do...

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“Nevermore” by A.G. Scott

A storm came on the night Jacob Walker’s father tried to kill him.Lightning did not chase away the oppressive darkness. Thunder did not drown the barks and shrieks inside the farmhouse. The rain did not revitalize the wilting fields, nor did it loose the old man’s grip on his axe.By the grace of God, Jacob managed to wriggle free of his father’s shadow, of the smell of whiskey and sweat. He dashed across the land, vaulted the boundary fence, and disappeared into a lush wood. His father, a drowsy husk of...

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“Mr. Evermore” by A.G. Scott

Today was even gloomier than usual. Moody storm clouds loomed over the harbor, casting a nauseating haze over Boston. Watching darkness drift in from what seemed like the edge of the world, the boisterous city fell quiet.Moreover, a peculiar fog crept quietly through the maze of hilly streets. It swirled about, tonguing the outer walls of old brick buildings. In the thick of it, one could scarcely see across the street, and Old Boston's antique gas lamps were of little help.At the corner of a foggy mark...

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“About Time” by A.G. Scott

INT. CHINA WOK RESTAURANT - DAYMR. WONG, smirking, stocky, balding, counts the cash in the register. The golden cat on the counter waves at PAULO. Creeped, Paulo distracts himself by staring at the calendar on the wall. He notices that each date reads February 2nd, and starts to have a panic attack. What is the actual date? The date it's supposed to be? Before he can figure it out, a giant ethereal rift opens in the wall, splitting the calendar in two.Paulo jumps back and claws his...

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Author bio

You can find Mark Wilhelm's wonderful renditions of my stories "Pride" "The Firefly Fairy" and "A Soldier" on his spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/1c8ySHgypOEW4mgRMIMBNS?si=T-GScC-mQNqu0oYTne1woA&dl_branch=1 I VERY much recommend listening to Pride, his latest.. Mark is getting scary good at what he does. Hit me up for whatever at agscottwriter@gmail.com