Scott Christenson

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2022

Stories (133)

133 Stories

6225 karma pts

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“A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #243

Just as the subway doors begin to close, I rush inside seconds before the train leaves Capitol Heights station. Sitting on a cold, hard aluminum seat, I feel the weight of a dozen pair of eyes examining me. I’m scared and trembling like a leaf. I still don’t belong, and I need to figure out why.Devious, that’s what my mother calls me. My biggest challenge at the moment is the daily battle to outmaneuver my government watchers. I realize this sounds crazy, but please, hear me out. I woke up as the first person ever to be taken out of a c...

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“Lost and Found In Turin” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #242

American Paul Keller thought of himself as an extremely rational man, yet he now found himself 58 years old, living off his last month of savings, and in the Galleria Sabauda in Turin Italy without a train pass to return to his Airbnb.“I think I’ve dropped my transit pass somewhere in the museum,” he explained to a bored, but sympathetic looking, young woman at the museum’s front reception desk“We have not-a~ found a~ train pass to~day”, she replied in the charming accent many people in Italy use to speak English.Paul tried to remember how m...

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“It’s Darkest Before The Dawn” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #241

Avdiivka, Eastern UkrainePicture this: Russian drones buzzing overhead, the rumble of artillery, and a 5-second panicky run for cover as a Ukrainian spotter sees a GRAD rocket headed our way.VolodymyrVolodymyr is the Ukrainian lieutenant in charge of our unit and shouts at everyone to move their ass. He’s the last one into the bunker and appears annoyed his morning routine of one hundred pushups was interrupted. He fingers a cigarette in one hand and massages his assault rifle in the other.Brad takes a photo: Volodymyr, a Ukrainian soldier s...

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“Dust In The Wind” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #240

As the frigid mist blowing in from Massachusetts Bay stings my face, I think about Jim. My dad. He goes with me everywhere. His photo is in my wallet and I show it to everyone. They don’t ask, maybe because of my anger issues, so I don’t need to explain that he’s dead, or what happened. Most people in Boston know already. It’s not often someone drives their car off the Longfellow Bridge.The looming presence of his funeral this afternoon transports my thoughts to the old days, back when mom was around; before he changed. Before the darkness o...

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“Harajuku 2004” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #239

It’s raining children and their lifeless bodies pile up on the side of the road. That’s the horrifying vision I see as I walk home along the tree-lined, majestic boulevard of Omotesando in Tokyo.Last year, I contributed to raising millions for the Asian Children's Fund, but they choose not to spend any of it on helping starving children. Guilt plagues my soul, infiltrates my psyche. It wasn’t my crime, yet I was helpless to prevent it.I approach the humble apartment building within which I live. The Okabe family eyes me suspiciously from the...

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“A Quiet Weekend” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #238

Giving me a conspiratorial smirk, Emma says, “If you are dating Jasmine, there’s something you need to know—”. “ — Shhh!” A Buddhist monk hushes her, a finger at his lips. Emma’s now strained smile hints at her want to have told me something of consequence. Under the watchful gaze of the monk, she drifts off toward breakfast. **Upon our arrival the prior morning, our devices and laptops were taken away by orange robed monks. Honestly, it felt as if we were in a Buddhist led mass kidnapping, rather than attending an expens...

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“Running into a Revolution — Conversations in Hong Kong, 2019” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #235

6:45am The AlarmI check the time, and try to go back to sleep. My legs are sore from yesterday’s 20 km hike (most of the trains in the city have stopped running), and I need to run again tonight.7:30am The Middle School GirlsA rumble from the girls' middle school beneath my 27th floor window jars me awake. In the school courtyard, I see 50 young girls in student uniforms standing in a circle. “Dirty police break the law! Dirty police break the law! Revolution of our time!” they chant-scream in unison, with a teacher joining them. After ...

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“Breaking The Chain” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #234

The scent of cedar shavings and feces infused the evolutionary lab with the unmistakable essence of life. It was in stark contrast to the sterile atmosphere of the rest of the Exodus Voyager. It was here that Jessica found herself drawn, spending most of her time. She scrutinized the 78 Djungarian dwarf hamsters that were under her care. The slightest difference in anogenital span–the distance between the reproductive opening and the anus–signaled their gender. She needed the make an accurate determination to ensure an equal distribution of ...

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“Analogy Schamology - A Sobriety Play in Three Acts” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #233

964 Boston Post RoadWinding my way through the suburban streets of Rye New York on the back of my DoorDash moped, I reach the Methodist church on Boston Post Road. I've been delivering pizzas to the alcoholics there on Friday nights and know the route well. Today is a Tuesday.Outside their meeting room, a poster on the wall features a lighthouse with the message: Sobriety is a journey, not a destination. For years, alcohol has been a heavy anchor around my neck, and it's time for a change. I take the first step into their meeting room.“...

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“Red Dog Poker Mornings” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #232

Within our tiny buzz of activity in the vast bleak landscape and never ending gloom of polar winter, I study my opponents. The four of them sit around the only table of the only bar in Red Dog. They’re each holding five cards. I could use a drink, but unfortunately the town went dry a long time ago—indigenous Alaskan territories often enact alcohol bans. But people still need to distract themselves. Tuesday mornings are poker “night” for the night shift. I sip my Coke Zero, longing for something stronger to numb the pain of last years b...

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“Godwin's Law” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #231

New Year’s Day 2035, in Charleston, South Carolina, Paul Tithers stood motionless on his electric scooter and was at a loss for words—or more accurately, at a loss for one word.With a hangover, still reeling from the loss of a real estate listings the week before, and having fallen over repeatedly on the new scooter his wife bought him for Christmas, he was in a foul mood.In front of him, a security guard stood blocking his way. “Electric scooters are not allowed in Ashley Park. I need to ask you to get off the scooter and exit the park,” th...

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“A Christmas Day Heist” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #230

“A grande whole milk latte and all the money in the cash register,” Bernie said to the cashier, while pointing the gun at the barista, “or the barista dies.”People usually value other people’s lives more than their own, or at least they should. The age twenties something cashier’s face was twitching. It was clear he had never been in a robbery before. Calgary is a safe city, or at least it was before the people from Toronto started showing up.“Is this for real? Are you actually robbing the store?” the cashier said.“Does this gun look real to...

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“The Living Parents Literary Support Group” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #229

At the Living Parents Literary Support Group, Rebecca regretted every dad that died. With each, she lost a member.“Roll call,” she announced. “Is everyone’s parents still alive?”“Yes,” the man sitting on her left declared.“Both Alive,” the next member said.. “Yep.” “Yessirree.” One by one, the dozen attendees of the 23rd annual LPLSG Christmas Dinner acknowledged the sad fact that their parents were alive and well.“Hmm…” Nicole Johnson mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.“Nicole?” Rebecca probed.“My mother passed two wee...

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“The Three Body Problem” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #228

Lucas and Harper agreed on exactly one thing. Though they didn't know each other, and were currently refusing to speak to each other, and disagreed about everything else, they both agreed Isabella was an idiot. It was showing in their subtle head shakes and the not so well hidden eye rolls.The three of them were handcuffed together at the McCarren Park Greenmarket (a greenmarket is just a farmer's market, in New York, they need to give a special name to everything).It was a three body problem.They could escape if they agreed on which way to ...

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“Two Million Scoville” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #228

It turns out the way to travel through time was sitting in front of us all along. In the same way as water is a liquid that suddenly bursts into boiling steam; humans just needed the right jolt in their quantum energy to reach the tipping point. The one where time flows like water. And the Trinidad Moruga Pepper at a scorching 2 million Scoville units does just the trick.Not that I understand the science, and right now, I’m a bit preoccupied with my older brother Mike glaring at me like a maniac over the family dining table.“I hope you stepp...

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Author bio

From Milwaukee and currently living in Hong Kong after spending 20 years in various locations around Asia. Started with Reedsy a year ago and have learned so much from all of you amazing writers on this site. 'The Value of Time' is based on a true story in Latin America: https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/ncfs5s/ Email: sukosuko1@gmail.com

Winning 2 stories 🏆

Contest #165

Liability in Lingotto – read story

Contest #158

Your Cat™️ Customer Service – read story

Shortlisted 5 stories ⭐️

Contest #221

Unreliable – read story

Contest #215

Curdled – read story

Contest #177

Base Stock – read story

Contest #171

A World of Opinion – read story

Contest #159

Gluten Is What Makes This Nation Stick Together – read story