Anthony Scott
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Stories (37)
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The Invitation
"We’re excited to invite you to join our exclusive team!" The email came from a company Ava had never applied to, but the phrasing intrigued her. The message was vague—no job title, no salary, no details about the role. Instead, it simply read:
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Horror
The Shoes That Couldn't Be Left Behind
In a small village nestled in the mountains, there lived a farmer named Liu Qiang. Every year, during the harvest season, he would travel to the city to sell his crops. Life was hard, and each trip meant leaving behind his family for weeks at a time. But this year was different—he was taking his wife and young daughter with him.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Fiction
Fragments of the Past
A cold and misty night at a small town diner. A man in his late 30s, wearing a weathered leather jacket and jeans, steps inside. He has a worn face and eyes that carry a heavy burden. He takes a seat at the counter. The waitress, wiping down a coffee pot, glances at him, recognition flickering across her face.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Chapters
When the Rains Won’t Come
It’s 1:15 am, a quiet and restless Sunday morning in my corner of the world. I lie sprawled on my mat, staring at the motionless ceiling fan above me. No breeze stirs the air, and sleep has fled far from my eyes. I can feel the heat pressing against me, relentless and heavy, like an unwelcome embrace.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Chapters
A Silent Tomorrow
It’s the year 2075, and silence is all I’ve known for years. My ears stopped hearing long ago, a side effect of an implant that was supposed to improve my health but failed miserably. Now, all I have is the quiet and the dim glow of the city outside my window.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Futurism
The Whispering Notebook
The notebook looked ordinary—just a plain black leather-bound journal with a faint smell of dust and old ink. I’d picked it up at a flea market for a dollar, thinking it might inspire me to start journaling again. The vendor, an elderly man with trembling hands, had simply said, *“Be careful what you write.”* I thought he was joking.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Horror
The Housewarming Visitor
I as unpacking in my new house, sorting through the endless stacks of boxes scattered around the living room. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving only a faint orange glow to seep in through the windows. The silence was comforting, yet strange; it was the kind of quiet that felt like it was waiting.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Horror
Life Unfolds in Moments of Choice
l don’t often call myself a worrier, but a low hum of restlessness has taken hold. It started one early dawn, just before a long-awaited sunrise. I stood by my window, breathing in the quiet when a loud crash echoed from the kitchen. It was the water heater. Pipes burst, and the floors were awash in seconds. I scrambled, piling up towels, moving anything that might soak, muttering to myself, “this, too, is a part of the process.” After what felt like hours, I managed to stop the flood. By late morning, I left for work, feeling a strange clarity beneath the chaos.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Humans
Legacy of Darkness
Act I, Scene I - The Unexpected Inheritance February 14th Willowdale, a sleepy town shrouded in mist, lay dormant under the gray skies of winter. The once-grand mansion on Elm Street, now a relic of the past, stood as a testament to the town's forgotten glory.
By Anthony Scottabout a year ago in Fiction
