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L.S. Scott

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Sep, 2021

Stories (4)
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33 Followers
48 Following

4 Stories

164 karma pts

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What They Had Taken

Shortlisted for Contest #290 ⭐️

He moved ahead of her, quick and sure, kicking at shells, stopping now and then to wait for her. His dark curls lifted in the wind, shifting and falling with each step."Slow down," she wanted to say, but the words never left her lips.The sea had pulled back in the night, leaving the shore wide and bare. The sand lay damp and ridged, marked only by the memory of waves. In the shallows, tide pools clung to the earth, cradling bits of sky.Her boots pressed into the ridges the tide had left behind. The air smelled thick with salt and things long...

39 likes 34 comments 34
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No Return

Submitted to Contest #289

The bass from the club’s speakers throbbed against the restroom’s tiled walls, shaking the floor and traveling up Charlotte’s unsteady legs.Behind the door, the venue pulsed with life—laughter, clinking glasses, the dull hum of conversation beneath the music.And then there was him. Waiting. Watching.She clutched the edges of the sink, staring at her reflection in the grimy mirror. The fluorescent light above flickered, cutting her face into pieces—now whole, now fragmented. Her black dress clung to her body, the high neckline suffocating her...

20 likes 6 comments 6
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Salt, Then Silence

Shortlisted for Contest #288 ⭐️

The sea had quieted by the time they found her. She was a ghost against the dawn, lashed to the broken mast of a half-drowned sailboat, her body wrapped in the stiff embrace of soaked lines. The searchlight swept past once, then flicked back, steady on the tangle of girl and wreckage. A man shouted. The hull of the Coast Guard cutter groaned as it came about.She did not stir.The sky, a watercolor smear of gray and gold, stretched low over the Gulf. Gentle swells rocked what was left of the boat, an old Catalina 22, its mainsail long since st...

40 likes 27 comments 27
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Where She Left Me

We cut through the downtown park, racing curfew, when I saw the empty outdoor stage. The sun had begun its slow retreat over Tampa Bay, washing the sky in tangerine and blood orange. Behind the stage, palm trees swayed, their shadows stretching across the pavement, long fingers pointing in every direction.I climbed up the wooden platform and threw out my arms. “I’m tired of being admired!” I belted, twisting my voice into the singsong lilt of Madeline Kahn. I swayed my hips, over-exaggerating each movement like I’d seen her do in Blazing Sad...

3 likes 2 comments 2
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