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Scout Tahoe

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2020

Stories (65)
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1781 Followers
23 Following

65 Stories

13220 karma pts

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ILY

Shortlisted for Contest #141 ⭐️

CW: one swear word(Sign language written in traditional format.)HELLO, WELCOME, Professor Le Roux signed to her American Sign Language 101 class, TODAY ME TEACH-you GOODBYE. The lecture hall was quiet, students stilled with confusion. “We’re learning about basic goodbyes today,” she clarified. It was after lunch and everyone was worn down, still digesting their meatloaf and gossip. Someone coughed. “Now, a bit of deaf culture background to begin: usually, deaf individuals stand farther apart when having a conversation”—she models it—“an...

69 likes 41 comments 41
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Rendezvous at Salazen Grum

Once upon a nightmare, in the dining hall of the castle of Salazen Grum, Wonderland, Drizella is doing a few final edits to her speech. She scribbles over neat handwriting with her illegible preschooler capital letters with the light that strikes through the narrow lancet windows. The floor is a card-deck pattern, and Drizella notices she’s standing on the black Ace of Clubs. This helps her ignore her sizzling post-supper tea. Although she’s perched at the head of the heart-shaped table, no one else seems to pay her any attention. They’re to...

29 likes 12 comments 12
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Pluto, You’re Not Alone

In class, Kelly is learning about the planets. He likes fumbling with the colorful styrofoam spheres from the models until Ines wipes the dribble off his lower lip and says it’s time for a break. Kelly’s recess runs longer than the other kids’. Once they’re all inside, he stands and walks in a zigzag pattern around 4-Square balls and hula hoops. Occasionally, he falls on the asphalt and scrapes his knees. When Kelly cries, Ines doesn’t yell or sigh, she simply rubs wounds with a handkerchief and mumbles cheerfully, “It’s like gravity wo...

25 likes 7 comments 7
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Are there any others who feel this way?

T/W: microaggressions, racism Are you there, God? It’s me, a Black girl. Somewhere.  I’m writing to you because I have just one question to ask. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it short. Then, I’ll be outta your hair for the rest of eternity (or however long you live). My question is . . .  Actually, before I get to my question, I have another question. Do you hate me, God? I only ask because today Courtney sat on my desk and crinkled my papers and asked if she could touch my hair. I’d just taken my single plaits out so my hair had som...

22 likes 16 comments 16
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Dextrocardia

Submitted to Contest #131

Dextrocardia - a condition that makes the heart move out of its original position Judy lost her heart. Again. She couldn’t remember if it was on the right swell of her chest or the left—and she probably could have been tricked into thinking it was in the greasy crook of her elbow. Do you feel that artery, Judy? Do you feel the way it’s beating like the rhythm of a soldier’s weary feet or humming like the church bells that rarely ring? No, she did not, and when the football game flickered onto her TV and a patriotic woman started belting...

40 likes 21 comments 21
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Themme Fatale

CW: language, hints of previous addiction Someone spun the bottle.  You didn’t know their name but you watched, pressed against the living room wall, how they giggled politely before necking Ziza on her purple lips. Ziza produced a forced blush and glanced at their own white, fluffy carpet from Target. You downed a few more potato chips and a baby carrot doused in ranch, silently judging everyone else at the party. Your brain unconsciously counted the calories entering your mouth and you tried to ignore it. 212 calories. Ziza exa...

16 likes 9 comments 9
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Made in Texas

Submitted to Contest #130

There is no snow on the Small Uphill Cemetery in Grand Prairie, Texas. Probably from global warming or something. The long-dead grass crunches under your feet like your abuela’s famous Chocos Fritos, or fried cuttlefish will in your mouth. This salty-fried, home-baked thought caused your lips to tremble and your mouth to water. You’d kill for a good cuddle right now.  Your hands are bare and becoming numb, so you cup them around your face and keep trudging beside the graves. The cemetery is empty. Gravestones stand with their porpoise ...

30 likes 7 comments 7
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When you lose your favorite sock

Submitted to Contest #129

CW: cancer My dog follows me into the hallway as I’m crunching on a stick of ants-on-a-log. If only she knew raisins were terrible for her and that I wasn’t going to give her a bite anyways. I see my mom losing steam on folding a pile of laundry, so I sit cross-legged next to her and start matching socks. She’s scrolling through social media and leaning against the wall, rubbing the spot under her eyes where the rim of her glasses made a red imprint. She doesn’t notice me at first but then watches me as I sort the mismatched socks away. Some...

38 likes 16 comments 16
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On Becoming A Writer:

Submitted to Contest #128

Real writers drink tea. I want to be a real writer, not just someone who pens as a pastime. So I wake up at writer’s-time: 7:00am, when the sun is bruising a soft periwinkle. The birds are chiming on the utility power lines and I know my body will be destroyed by this change to my sleep schedule. However, we writers make sacrifices all the time. I stay in my maroon sweatpants, overly large tank top, and mismatched socks. Fitting my glasses to my nose, I type “how to make tea” into the blinking Google search bar. Another note: real ...

59 likes 51 comments 51
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The Cycle

It’s 4pm when Matt receives a text from Izzie: Hey Dad- Code: Red Dya mind picking up some pads for me on your way home from work? Thx <3Matt looks away from his phone and runs a hand down his face. It’s not the first time he’s had to deal with his daughter’s menstrual cycle and is certainly not the last. However, there’s only so many pity looks a single dad can take while purchasing maxi pads at the local grocery store. He’ll just have to suffer through another one. At his little desk, Matt packs up early. His computer is ...

17 likes 9 comments 9
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Some People Feel the Rain

Submitted to Contest #112

It was exactly 47 degrees in the Bodega Bay Lodge on March 5th, 2021, outside room six. The wind licked goosebumps onto our bare arms as we waited. My sister, Piper, had a plain blue towel wrapped around her body like a burrito of warmth. Her chestnut hair skipped across her face. I knew she didn’t have to be here, but she followed me everywhere. I always tried to convince myself that it was annoying, but to be truthful it was flattering how she shadowed me like an old, faithful hound.   Finally, the door creaked open. My cousin, ...

45 likes 20 comments 20
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Today is Not Meant to be Pretty

Submitted to Contest #90

Today is not meant to be pretty. Today is the day for a fight. Today also has no time for late-comers. Kiyoko makes this clear with her eyes like iridescent beetle wings and wild hand gestures. I navigate the tree she’s perched in like my childhood years on the monkey bars. When I finally bend my ragdoll-limbs into an acrobatic criss-cross-applesauce, she lectures me about native Arizona trees. I’m not listening. I’m surveying the beautiful sunrise projected like a utopian film over the Golden Canyon Golf Course bunkers. They’re su...

82 likes 63 comments 63
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Serendipity

Submitted to Contest #86

The field is wet. Irrigation seeps through my cleats and into my socks. My legs are sore from countless Youtube workouts. (They claim to give you abs. I am living proof that those instructor ladies get liposuctions every month or so.) Besides, I tried to keep up lacrosse by practicing. Throwing, catching, cradling. But at some point, there’s no point. Hector has already started practice. I’m half an hour late and the girls are still doing warmups. They’ve already got their protection goggles on. Their feet slip along the grass when they...

81 likes 39 comments 39
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Just Keep Swimming

Submitted to Contest #83

Swim practice ends behind schedule nowadays, to the point of where the stars are young and frantically zigzag through the air. We also note the tiny dots could be satellites, orbiting at a snail’s pace. We never know. And to be honest, it doesn’t matter to me whether the kids leaning out their windows wish on a hot ball of galactic plasma or a hunk of metal and antenna. In fact, I couldn’t care less. My swim kids aren’t stupid like that and they wear nothing but Speedos and one-pieces. They all look the same in the end, shivering and hu...

69 likes 45 comments 45
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A Spoonful of Sugar

Submitted to Contest #81

Sugar chooses a new pronoun every day. It drove their ex boyfriend crazy, that and the way they only watched dystopian psychological horrors on a grayscale screen and supplied too much commentary, so he, and anyone else who was watching, knew exactly what was going to happen. But everyone has their flaws. For example, Ian—their ex—rented out his driveway. He still does. The current rate is five dollars an hour in cash only, with friend and family discounts of 20%. People have to schedule ahead of time but if they pay a few dollars extra...

53 likes 31 comments 31
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