My Christmas

My Christmas is my own. Yours is yours. You may not even celebrate Christmas. Happy Holidays then.

But, for me, I do celebrate, and I adore Christmas. For a guy, I genuinely enjoy the shopping—even for clothes. I love the lights all over the place. The stacks of gifts, the trees. If my house isn’t filled with schmaltzy movies about romance found and families reunited, I don’t feel like it’s really Christmas.

But this Christmas season is different. I don’t have someone around I used to have. This article started off happy to prove, that yes, I am no hater of the holiday. I want you to understand, dear reader, despite this dark topic, I will have a happy 25th.  I’ll hold on tight to the people around me.

But yeah, this is a tinged year. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: We Were Always Here

Gerald did not know when he’d turned off the lights. He’d been sitting in the dark for a long time. The screen the only source of illumination, not even a lantern worth of light to see. His stomach curled up and hard, twisting. He closed his eyes for a moment, and breathed out, trying to force images out of his head. Faces and names and moments.

The screen showed he’d pulled up a few different chat bubbles. He’d not typed into any of them. They all had a few things in common, a few connecting features between the people presented. Girls. Women. Above his age. Never spoken to any of them. Never video chatted. Cost too much. Continue reading

Tell A Story Brandon, Dammit!

It’s hard for me to tell a simple story. Goes against all of what I like about media. I love the intricacies of a complex narrative. For a story to be engaging to me, at least on a level which makes me openly happy, I need my brain tied up in knots trying to work things out—to piece together the parts. This doesn’t mean I like confusing stories, but it does mean I’m drawn to multi-layered ones. Stories with startling turns, with underlying concepts, with social and political commentary, and creative symbolism, and this…this is a problem. Continue reading

Late Flash Fiction: Thankful

Sorry! I’m late! Thanksgiving threw off my whole schedule, and I’m getting this post out about an hour past Saturday.

Please forgive me😦.

For those who do forgive me, and haven’t run off in anger, may I present a type of story I’ve always wanted to do. An admittedly self-indulgent tale of one man, and his many imaginary friends.

I call it:


The table was so big it would not be available on the standard commercial market. It also made no physical sense. So, it was a good thing the man at the head of it, at least in this world, was a god. Continue reading

Writing With Music Playing: A Pros And Cons List

While writing in private, alone, is often a necessity, doing so in a quiet location is another matter altogether. Sure, I don’t think people write well while a television or the crackle of video games is in the background, but I know some enjoy writing with music in their ears.

And my opinion on this matter has changed over time. As when I first began, I tried not to listen to music while I was doing the actual writing—but thinking about the topic beforehand was fair game for tunes. And then, later, I came to rely on it, as my writing location got more and more distracting. I had noise-canceling headphones and a preset playlist. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: What Makes You Human?

Alexander had the barrel pressed to the man’s head. Only he was not a man—not in the strictest sense. That’s where things get a tad problematic.

“Go on, do it. Come on now. You are the same as all of them. Pull the fucking trigger, I fucking dare you!”

“Shut it, will you?” Alexander said and smacked the man with the side of his laser gun. Darius fell backward, his skin broken, and the silver stuff underneath visible. Continue reading

I Don’t Want To Hear About Politics Anymore

Don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to know. I have my own opinions, and I… just…I don’t want to hear it. Like, shut up internet, please.

Let it be known, in this year of 2016, that Brandon Scott is not above plucking the lowest of low hanging fruits for a blog article. Because, today, I will talk about…

*Cue dramatic drum beat*

…politics. Continue reading

Halloween Flash Fiction: Washing Machine

The sound annoys. Irritates me. I can’t stand it. I shout for it to stop. I beg the air, I scream, and it does not stop. Clanking, crushing. Cracking. So much noise. It makes me want to take my skin and yank it down over my ears. Fill my drums with liquid until they pop.

I can’t stand it—I just can’t. The cabinet slamming covers the sound well enough. Back and forth under my forceful hands. Back and forth. Enough force to break something. The last push hurts too much, so I slam my hand on the side of the wood, letting the wet handprint slide down on the mahogany. Continue reading

The Yearly Halloween Article

Let’s talk about Halloween, shall we? Because, yeah, it’s coming upon us, all dripping with gore and guts and sweet things, and I am—despite having not been much of a ghoul the last few rounds—super excited about this year. Normally, I just watch a horror movie with friends, but this time I’ll get more into the “spirit” of things (ha-ha, I’m so original with my humor). Though I am too old and on too strict a diet to go out for candy, I realize that the holiday has something to offer to everyone.

So, I wanted to talk about the biggest part of this event that appeals to me. The main draw of the frightful night. Continue reading

Flash Fiction: Scammy

The email looked legit.

Hello sir or madam, I am happy to inform you that you have made so many of billions of dollars. Due to a ridiculous series of tax laws and reformatting of the entire currency system, along with the rising of a dark sorcerer, you are set to receive seventeen billion dollars in the next week. We only need you to enter your bank account data to make the transaction complete. Continue reading

Bored, Quite Bored (And Why That Might Be A Good Thing)

I’m writing this post while bored.

It’s, relatively, not an unpleasant day. I’m outside in the Florida heat, but with a breeze and a stomach full of salted cashews and filtered water.

And as I sit here, I’m thinking about boredom and creativity. It’s an easy test to find an artist: make a person bored. See what they do with what is around them. Continue reading