Scat Novels & Stories

Suddenly, I heard Layla call out. "Finnie!" she screamed and I turned, frantic with the fear that she was hurt or scared. Right as I spotted her, I felt a snowball smack my face. Startled, I wiped the snow away to see Layla smiling as the rest of our friends fell down with their laughter. I glared at her as she giggled.

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​[PROGRESS: 44%] [SECTOR_09: WIPE_FAILED_RETRIAL] [SECTOR_10: PURGING. ​The machine was groaning. The cooling fan inside the ruggedized case was screaming at a high, metallic pitch, struggling against the massive volume of data it was translating into nothingness. Through her earpiece, she could hear Margot’s frantic typing, a erratic percussion that sounded like rain on a tin roof. ​"Margot," Scarlett said, keeping her voice low. "The progress bar is stuttering at forty-four. Talk to me."

Eyes glowing a bruised gold. Claws scrape sparks from the bitumen as it screams in two voices—one shrill, one buried in gravel. “Faith, get to the car!” Scott barks. Faith sprints for the 1980’s back to the Future tribute Hilux. The creature pivots midair, tracking motion with the simple intelligence of a hunting thing—smart enough to pick a target, dumb enough to do it in front of him. “Ah!” it hissed. Scott’s boots slide on the wet road as he hauls open the tray and closes his hand around the old aluminium bat. No tricks. No symbols. Just leverage and timing.