Craig Scott

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Nov, 2023

Stories (4)

4 Stories

98 karma pts

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“The Dowser” by Craig Scott

Submitted to Contest #233

People had laughed at him. Called him an old fool. Well, Jeremiah didn’t care. It had been a month without the summer rains, and things were dire— even his little pump-well had run dry. As he walked, he mused how the younger generation had seemed to have turned sour. Mired too much in their education, their almanacs, the lectures and dictates of government men who came by with leaflets on fertilizers. Something in that mix had made the young people mean-spirited, spiteful towards old things; mocking and irreverent. Jeremiah spat into the ...

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“Assault on Workshop 13” by Craig Scott

Submitted to Contest #229

“Three hundred and sixty-four days worked, to one day off!”…Mergle hadn’t known he was going to speak until he already was, his voice broken and hot as he stood upon the crate. He had yet to articulate within himself the reasons that prompted him to action, yet he knew they were informed by a long dormant rage which moved internally like a geologic force. Tears welled in his eyes and slid down his green face. Yes, rage. That all-consuming fire that burnt low and idle in the soul until some ca...

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“Cormac's Coast” by Craig Scott

Submitted to Contest #227

Please Be Aware of Sensitive Themes: Apocalyptic Imagery, Murder, Mass Death, Self Harm.The predatory and numbing winds fly cold and apathetic over the roiling waves of the ocean. They eat into defenseless skin, leaching out its warmth and vitality in a siege of microbial knives that sink deep in their apoplectic embrace. Within this mandate resides cracked knuckles opened raw, eyes yellowed and slow, and a numbness of spirit. It is a hateful wind that whispers rumors there never was a God. That or God had left ...

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“Hot Dog Highway” by Craig Scott

Submitted to Contest #226

Uncle Phil stood in the highway; hands on his hips and comely smile spread across his bearded face. He wore a bright red sweater with yellow pin-stripes and corduroy pants natural to the style of his time. Rain fell around him, sogging the edges of his cardboard frame and slowly wilting his structural integrity into a collapsing blanket. Wind rocked him on the cardboard triangle that propped him upright. Given time he would be knocked over and become so much mush on the road. But not yet.He had been stolen from a local h...

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Author bio

I enjoy writing horror fiction. If anyone would like to reach me, they may contact me through my e-mail: craigscottwriting@gmail.com