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Scott Speck

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2025

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20 Stories

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Memories of Burnside

Weekly Contest #341

Memories of BurnsideFancy apartment buildings usually have names. Like the Vendome in Brooklyn or Malden Towers in Chicago. But here, where I’d grown up, at 1307 Overlook Street, in the blue-collar rust belt town of Burnside, it was just a three-story brick building with thirteen apartments. Only the four-digit street number identified the place, visible as well-patinaed copper numbers anchored to bricks just above the double wood doors of the main entrance.The rents here were the highest in Burnside, but that’s because of the view. Out b...

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A Harrowing Walk Home

Weekly Contest #340

A Harrowing Walk Home Priscilla stepped outside and breathed in the stifling summer heat. She’d finished her shift in the kitchen at Nick’s Diner and looked forward to a relaxing evening at home. Her favorite show was on the telly tonight, and she'd make it there just in time.Yet something was troubling her as she stood alone in the back alley just behind Nick's.“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” she said to no one in particular. “But my resume’ is a bit sparse on the grittier roles. Can we start this over? With a bit more pizzazz?”-----Thu...

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The Reincarnation of Alastair Chamberlain

Weekly Contest #339

The Reincarnation of Alastair Chamberlain1.The antique Frodsham mantle clock chimed eleven as I removed the infuser and sipped my tea. Alastair served only the finest Darjeeling in his flat, drunk from antique 17th century China cups.Alastair and I have been friends for years, ever since he moved here to Royal Estate Assisted Living. If I had to pick his standout quirk, it’s his obsessive compulsion about the precise arrangement of everything in his well-appointed flat, measured down to the millimeter. And given his expensive tastes, I wasn...

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The Matchmaker

Weekly Contest #338

The MatchmakerI opened the Collected Works of Edgar Alan Poe and began to read. Near my chair, a large iron radiator creaked, hissed, and smelled of heat. Basking in its prodigious output, my toes had thawed and were now toasty warm. At my feet sat a packed lunch and a thermos of hot tea, but it was still early – ten o’clock – as I plowed through “The Telltale Heart” on my way to “The Cask of Amontillado.”On this snowy winter morning, I had enjoyed a mug of strong coffee with a big breakfast fry up before bundling up and trudging through the...

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Farewell Address

Weekly Contest #338

Farewell AddressThe hall was packed, every seat taken as the ceiling lights dimmed. Then he appeared – Doctor Simon Torrance – tall, strong, his neatly combed hair glowing silver. A roar of cheers and applause filled the hall as everyone rose to their feet, cell phones flashing as he strode beneath an enormous banner reading “Happy Retirement Doctor Torrance!”He was the most brilliant genetic engineer of all time, and the founder and Chief Scientist of Torrance Genetics. After three decades of world-changing discoveries, he was one brief hou...

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The Tale of Fenwick and the Clock Brownie

Weekly Contest #337

The Tale of Fenwick and the Clock Brownie Isambard Fenwick had been repairing clocks and timepieces for nigh on fifty years, but never before had he taken on so many repairs in a single week. Business was brisk, a good thing. But had he any hope in fixing these clocks with sufficient speed to please everyone? His only assistant, Tompion, was ill with the mild form of influenza gripping the Strand and Covent Garden. And besides, Tompion was best suited for simple work, like cleaning clockworks and minding the shop. ...

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The Exorcism

Weekly Contest #336

The Exorcism Muscles bulged in the old woman’s forearms as she twisted and squirmed against us. Her strength was incredible. When she managed to free an arm or leg from our grasp, she savagely punched a man's face or kicked his ribs. Yet her eyes were the most terrifying thing of all – transformed into solid black orbs seething with demonic rage.“Don’t look into her eyes!” I shouted. “No matter what – avoid her eyes!”The four men trying to restrain her cried out and shouted to one another, their faces red with exertion. One recited the Lor...

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Bloody Mary -- a Manifestation

Weekly Contest #335

Bloody Mary – a Manifestation The Bateman Home, 9:00 PMCindy, thirteen years old and wearing pink pajamas, stares into the bathroom mirror. Downstairs, her friends wait impatiently in a basement lit only by flickering candles.Let them wait, she thinks. I’m the séance medium, and I need time to get ready. She puts on her witchy look – face angled down, long hair mussed and wild, and that penetrating stare. The ritual is simple – eyes shut, then five repetitions (with a generous pause between, for effect), then eyes open. She chooses her voice...

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Forgiving Yourself Can Be the Hardest Part

Weekly Contest #335

Forgiving Yourself Can Be the Hardest Part “How long has this been eating away at you?” Sister Mary Bonaventure asked. She sat across the table from me, a thickly loaded corned beef on rye grasped delicately among her fingers. Mary has such beautiful fingers – she works as a freelance hand model. She’s worn Cartier rings for full-page ads in posh magazines for the super-rich. She’s sported glitzy Swiss watches on her wrist, shown off any number of new nail polishes, skin exfoliating cleansers, and hand moisturizing creams. All the jewelry sh...

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The Junk Yard

The Junk Yard It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Clarence and I stood near the back of the yard, between two rows of old junkers. He was leaning against a light pole, placed in the yard to discourage thieves. The orange lamp atop the pole illuminated the snowflakes swirling about in the rising wind. It was bitterly cold – I had to keep my hands stuffed deep into my coat pockets so they wouldn’t go numb. Clarence wouldn’t let the dogs roam the junk yard tonight. Both hounds were safe and warm inside his mobile ...

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The Forest People

Weekly Contest #334

The Forest People It was pouring rain, the afternoon sky dark with greenish clouds as I rounded a curve on Benner Road. No radio reception up here – only static sputtered from the dashboard speaker, punctuated by the AM crackling sounds of lightning. The Jeep’s wipers were set on high, but their frantic movements did little to clear my view.The wind intensified, and occasional bursts of hail jolted the Jeep with clatter. Twice, I nearly drove into the trees as I lost my way through a blur of rain. I was driving into the worst of the storm, w...

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Dinner for Two

Weekly Contest #333

Dinner for Two Minnie Ayers certainly didn’t look the part. I'd expected some dark-eyed, mysterious sorceress with flowing robes and long, brightly painted nails. Instead, she was punctual, direct, and dressed in her nine-to-five secretary's dress. As she stepped gingerly about my third-floor flat on Potts Street, she reminded me of Nancy Drew in a mystery novel – aged twenty years and burnished of all the affects of childhood.“Something happened here,” she said, raising her gaze to the ceiling, beneath which a dark wooden support beam ran h...

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A Killing Rain

Weekly Contest #332

A Killing Rainby Scott SpeckAt eight A.M. the Politburo interrupted radio – every station. Twenty minutes later they commandeered television – every channel. Aleksandr was wheeling his bike out the door when the emergency public address system squealed and crackled to life.Then a female voice spoke. It was her he realized, the voice chosen in the direst of circumstances. She was… Motherland – all-knowing, confident, demanding obedience. Her every syllable echoed off like a ghost among the gray buildings.Complete all preparation by twelve o’c...

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A Magical Evening

Weekly Contest #331

A Magical Evening Heavy snow continued to fall. I watched from the warmth and security of my third-story flat while the window’s many mullioned panes crackled and creaked in the wind. Thick snow had already blanketed the neighborhood’s stately homes, and all I could see of the street lamp across Potts Avenue was a glowing yellow smudge. Then it winked out, along with the lamp on my sideboard. Power outage. Fortunately, I’d stocked up on both wood and coal for the fireplace. In the near darkness, I drew hard on my cigar, and its hot ember rev...

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Late Night Caller

Weekly Contest #330

Late Night Caller by Scott Speck “Allen, do you still love me?” The whiskey glass leaps from my hand and explodes on the floor, but I barely notice. The phone is tight against my ear. “Lucy? Wait… How...” I stop myself, embarrassed at my own stupidity. Allen, you’re a goddamn defense attorney. Act like one! “Why did you leave me out here? Here, Allen, where it’s so… cold…” Over the phone, wind is blowing through trees. I know how bitterly cold it is out there. Hours after getting home, my swollen red toes are still itching and tingling....

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