Scott D. Williams
Bio
Scott is a writer, family man and San Diego Padres fan.
Stories (8/0)
Amelia and Fred
“I’m sorry, Amelia.” She rummaged through the pockets of her leather flight jacket for the fourth time, vainly searching for something they could use. “Nonsense,” she replied. “It was a lucky landing. All that soft sand and rocks – it’s a damned miracle we’re alive, I say.”
By Scott D. Williams9 months ago in Fiction
The Secret of the Heart-shaped Anomaly
They existed in a perfect reality. All 100,000 Units were meticulously created, trained and guided through their lives by the master. They each lived precisely 10,000 days, serving society in their distinctive functions to maintain perfection in the dome. Outside the dome nothing mattered, as it was not a perfect reality. They were happily sealed off from this disturbing possibility and for centuries it rarely occurred to the Units that there was another reality.
By Scott D. Williamsabout a year ago in Fiction
A Grapheme Rainbow
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always automatically seen specific colors as numbers. For instance, the number one is black. Always. Three is red, four is olive green, and so on (see above). The number 842 looks like purple, olive green, pale yellow. If I stare at a painting it’s an exercise in paint-by-numbers, but mixed colors don’t have the same effect. Maroon, for instance, means nothing but maroon.
By Scott D. Williams2 years ago in Psyche
