Michael Scott
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Global Book Ambassador — Igniting World Class Book Experiences Featuring Non-Fiction Authors and Reading Evangelists
Articles by Michael Scott
2027 Qb Weeks 4-6
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Weeks 1-3
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Buried junction box defects
A junction box terminal with a partial solder joint was sufficient for the module to pass a flash test but will cause performance loss over a longer period. | Early signs of junction box (JB) failure are often subtle. It may be an infrared signature detected during a commissioning-stage drone flyover, or a technician noting cracking in the JB cover of an otherwise normal looking module. Left unaddressed, one failure may progress to a fire. This is a growing concern. Junction box failures now …
Weeks 4-6
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The Magician: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel Book Review
age 10+ Magical twins take on Paris in exciting sequel. Parents need to know that this second book in the series has about the same amount of sword fighting and monster battles as the first -- all of it is suspenseful but not gory. The teen twins with magical powers who are at the center of the story are in almost constant danger. There are some scary scenes in underground caves with giant spiders and creatures that feed off fear and panic. One main character vanishes and is feared dead.
The Alchemyst: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel Book Review
age 10+ Myth-based, modernized fantasy is nonstop fun. Parents need to know that, despite the almost nonstop action and fantasy violence, there is very little real violence, gore, or anything realistic. some Numerous products mentioned as part of normal life: video games, movies, electronics, TV shows, etc. some Much fantasy violence and deaths, no gore. some Many mythologies come together for this story -- Greek, Norse, Egyptian, etc.
Mission Impossible
Where you’ll discover short fiction that makes you smile, laugh out loud, get a little choked up, or become inspired. Press enter or click to view image in full size Every morning at precisely 6:42 a.m., the Old Man shuffled into the kitchen with a clipboard, muttering something about “mission protocols.” The four dogs — Axel (the planner), Tango (the dancer), Piper (the barker), and Timba (the digger) — snapped to attention. Operation: Breakfast was a go.
Mr. Dinsdale and the Ponytail Girl
Press enter or click to view image in full size Mr. Dinsdale was propped up in his hospital bed, arm in a sling, blanket folded at his waist. He looked like he’d settled in — tired and amused, but quite bored. The little red-haired girl with the ponytail sat beside him on the bed, telling a story with wild hand gestures and animated motions. “So then,” she said, “he actually tried to microwave the fish sticks with the plastic still on!” Mr. Dinsdale let out a sharp laugh, then winced.
Faces
Press enter or click to view image in full size The storm swallowed the last light as Evelyn stepped into the old manor. Every town had its quintessential haunted house — this was theirs, perched like a rotting crown on the hill, abandoned since the Ashcroft family vanished forty years ago. She came alone, driven forward by her own need to know. The walls breathed fetid decay. In the parlor, children’s drawings covered the walls, crude crayon faces with eyes scratched out, save one.
The Panda Bear
The Argo Meridian drifted in orbit over Merz-1, a reddish sphere bathed in the light of its dying sun. The crew moved quickly, prepping systems and scanning the atmosphere. After seventy-two years of cryo-sleep, they were alive again - sore, disoriented, and grateful. Timmy Reynolds blinked against the soft lights of the cryo bay, his tiny fingers still locked around the arm of his stuffed panda bear. His mother, Commander Elaine Reynolds, was awake too, rubbing warmth into his arms.
Trump is Going to Attack Venezuela
To read this story for free, CLICK HERE The signs are all there, and they're impossible to ignore. U.S. warships are circling Venezuela, military jets are flying overhead, and civilians are already dead. President Trump claims it's about drug trafficking, but the real motive looks like something far more dangerous - and familiar. This isn't a war on drugs. This is a setup. These actions are clearly meant to intimidate the Venezuelan government.
Charlie Kirk's Assassination Was a Tragedy Born of Radicalism
Not a Medium member? Click here to read this story for free The assassination of Charlie Kirk shocked the country - not just because of the brutal finality of it, but because of what it seemed to represent: a high-profile political killing in a deeply polarized America. The immediate reaction from Kirk's supporters was predictable. Trump's fat Fingers pointed to "the Left," as did the media, and so-called cultural Marxists. Conservative influencers quickly cast him as a martyr for their cause.
RWDrabble 2.0.235
I rolled out of bed this morning and discovered a scorpion lurking in one of my shoes. I just wish I had found it before I put my foot in it, literally. Well, that didn't really happen this morning, but it did happen about 20 years ago when I was living in South Florida. Folks a mile away were telling me they never knew that such curse words existed.
Midnight in Millennium Park
Maren thought it was all bullshit. She was convinced Juno and Alex would show up tomorrow laughing their asses off. Nonetheless, following the lead, the detectives traced the couple's last known location. It was an abandoned theater in Uptown - condemned, fenced off, long forgotten. Except it wasn't. Not really, but they didn't know that. Not yet. Inside, the walls shimmered faintly. Symbols were scratched into the paint - runes, maybe. Cam thought they matched Juno's sketches.
RWDrabble 2.0.234
Picture courtesy of The Poster Foundry (Creative Commons-2025) Well, Fall is falling early around here, and leaves are starting their tumble, which is OK by me, because I stopped raking them years ago. The grass, by the way, still comes up in the Spring. That being said, here is how Tuesday, which is tomorrow, came to be Tuesday: The word Tuesday comes from Old English Tiwesdæg, named after the Norse god (or ), the god of war and sky.
The End of Summer
It was the last Friday of summer break. Timmy and Tommy Littlefield, along with Delbert Durbertson - everyone just called him Dely - walked the old railroad tracks. School started on Monday. They were newly minted seniors, and that at least felt good. What didn't feel good was the looming presence of the usual bullies. Walter 'Red' Koenig and his crew of assholes were seniors too - thanks only to being held back for bad behavior.
A Mouse Named Crumb
Crumb had one leg and no patience for pity. He cleared the mousetrap like a gymnast, landing lightly. "They say my limp's a foreshadowing of doom," he said. "Guess doom's running late." Nibbs puffed along behind. "You've got one leg!" "Streamlined," Crumb corrected. "Less drag." The other mice jeered - "Tripod!" "Half-Pint!" - but Crumb didn't blink. He'd lost a limb to a toaster and gained a legend in the alleys. "They say you're half a mouse," Nibbs muttered.
The Night Shift
Scraps burnished his paws against his belly like a raccoon sommelier. "Vintage 2022. Chipotle wrapper. Notes of regret." Moxie peeked through the window of the suburban kitchen they'd staked out. "Human left the fridge open. Cheese inside. Brie, I think." Scraps froze. "Soft cheese?" "Stinks like roadkill." Two trashcans later, a clumsy Moxie tripped on a rogue Roomba and cartwheeled into a rosebush. Scraps used her distraction to scale the drainpipe with all the grace of a caffeinated spider.
The Ghost of Married Past
I can't fucking sleep! She stands over the bed, soaked in river water, her hair matted with weeds, wearing the same nightgown I wrapped around her before I rolled her off the boat. I thought the current would take her, and the past would drown with her. But every night, the bitch finds me. I want to kill her again. "John," she whispers, "She's young." I bolt upright. The girlfriend - Amber - is snoring beside me, oblivious. Eighteen. Smooth skin. Easy laughter. Everything my wife hadn't been in years.
The Great Shovel Heist
"Tell me again why we're stealing a shovel," grumbled Nibbs, eyeing the garden tool twice his size. "Because, my striped companion," Chutney said, puffing out his chest, "it's the ultimate acorn-burying machine." "You know, it's bigger than your whole family tree, right?" "Details, details!" The plan was simple: sneak into the shed, drag out the shovel, and revolutionize chipmunk agriculture. It was not going well. First, Chutney got his tail caught in the door.
The Heiress-A Detective Harrow Tale
They found her body in the greenhouse behind the palatial estate, wrapped in vines, throat slit, eyes wide open - like she'd seen it coming. Detective Harrow lit a cigarette with fingers that didn't shake. He'd been expecting this. She always dug too deep, always asked the questions others were too afraid to voice. Inside, her notes lay strewn across the table - names, old headlines. One was circled in red: Heiress Disappears, Presumed Dead. Beside it, a scribble: Not dead. Hidden.
The Third Bird
It fell like a snowflake, flipping and fluttering, landing in his palm, and he knew that he'd never again know a moment as perfect as this. A single white feather, clean as the driven snow, and smooth to the touch, though the air was heavy with soot and the forest floor littered with the ash of dying pine. Elias regarded it with narrowed eyes, his fingers trembling as he turned it over in his hand.
The Latest Spooky Prompt
DLD Prompt #30-The Devil's Pet Press enter or click to view image in full size The Devil's Pet Not all devils wear horns - some wear collars. "The Devil's Pet" is not a specific creature, but a type: any animal, object, or familiar bound to infernal will. It serves as a watcher, collector, or enforcer for something darker - and once it marks you, you're part of the game. Let's have fun with this one! Starting with this challenge, I will select an "Editor's Choice" story.
Operation Egg
"Thimble! The kitchen's that way," whispered Pip, pointing past a glowing lantern toy. Suddenly, Thimble paused in his tracks. "Wait. What's that wonderful smell?" Pip sniffed the air. " Egg. Definitely egg. With... a hint of something else." They crept into the nursery. A candle flickered on a nearby shelf, casting long mouse shadows on the crib. Inside: a baby. Asleep. Feet in the air like flags of surrender. "Check for crumbs," Pip whispered.
Chaos At Seagull Beach
A bird pooped on her head. Not just any bird — a seagull with the aim of a trained sniper and the audacity of a pickpocket. Clara shrieked, waving her umbrella like a medieval knight warding off dragons, though the flock circling above seemed to treat her as a new attraction rather than a warning. One particularly bold gull strutted toward her beach bag, eyeing her sandwich with the focus of a jewel thief.
The Snail
The book, bound in red leather, appeared on Mary’s doorstep, humming faintly. Inside, its pages were blank except for a single line: “Solve the puzzle before the snail arrives.” She laughed. A snail? What kind of threat was that? By midday, strange symbols burned onto the pages, rearranging themselves whenever she blinked. The air thickened. Her clocks spun backward. Then came the sound — soft, wet scraping — from the garden. She stepped outside.
The Grand Bunfather
To read this story for free, CLICK HERE In the dead of night, two baby bunnies — Milo and Tater — hopped through the woods, looking for dandelions and definitely not haunted objects. “Let’s not go near the creepy burrow,” said Milo. Tater, chewing a stick like it was a cigar, snorted. “Live a little.” Inside the burrow, they found an old, dust-covered thingamajig. It buzzed. It glowed. It smelled like burned cabbage.
The Nursery Pact
To read this story for free, CLICK HERE It was the Fall, and back to school for the kids, much to the relief of their harried parents. Neither they nor the teachers, however, had any idea what was in store. Nope. Not a one, until they found the first body. Old Mrs. Langford had taught kindergarten at Halberd Elementary for forty-one years.
A Mouse In the House
To read this story for free, CLICK HERE The kerfluffle began in the third quarter. “There’s a mouse in the house!” you shouted from Section 102, pointing at the court. Earl, a scrappy gray blur, shot out from under the bleachers like he had courtside tickets. The crowd roared. A power forward froze mid-dribble. Then Pearl appeared — smaller, faster, and clearly the brains of the operation. Earl zigzagged past a ref’s foot. Pearl launched herself through the paint like a tiny, furry missile.
A Rilo and Captain Growl Adventure
Rilo sat cross-legged in the cockpit, antennae twitching as the emergency lights flickered. The spaceship had stopped humming three hours ago, and silence filled every corner like a thick blanket. Beside him, Captain Growl — his teddy bear, one eye missing and fur matted from years of adventures — slouched against the console. “Well,” Rilo said, scratching the bear’s stitched ear, “we could panic. Or we could play.” Captain Growl, being a bear of remarkable patience, voted for play.
The Creature
Press enter or click to view image in full size The announcement caught everyone’s attention: hikers warned of strange figures on the ridge. James laughed it off, calling it a silly gimmick to keep nervous tourists indoors. Still, he strapped on his pack, Tango close at his heel, and set off along the high trail. The climb was quiet until Tango stopped walking, ears sharp, teeth bared. James frowned and followed his gaze. A shape emerged from the pines — too tall for a wolf, too crooked for a bear.
The Vengeance of Monsieur Marvelous Bandit
For readers who crave mystery, thrill, and otherworldly adventures, our pages are filled with the uncanny, the macabre, and the extraordinary. A Dark Lore Digest Open Topic Tale To read this story for free, CLICK HERE. Press enter or click to view image in full size Gingrich Dialaberry lived alone in a sagging farmhouse above Carolina Creek. He hated raccoons. No one knew why. They’d never stolen from him. Never hurt his livestock. But Gingrich hunted them like it was a calling.
In Response to August’s Amazing Random Questions
Read this story for free by clicking HERE. Press enter or click to view image in full size Would you donate an organ to a loved one? Now this is a tough question. I expect the kidneys would top the list of organs harvested regularly for transplantation. Were it a kidney, and I had two that worked, I would probably donate, depending on the loved one. A person doesn’t have to love or even like their loved ones, which means they are just ‘ones.’ Have you ever been to a casino?
NiggaElon Staking: Complete Staking Process for Nigga Elon Musk $NiggaElon on StakingRewards
Press enter or click to view image in full size In an increasingly competitive DeFi landscape, investors are constantly looking for smarter ways to make their crypto assets work for them. One of the most effective strategies is staking — locking tokens to support a network and earn passive income in return.
Animal House #006
Axel’s Animal House Challenge Press enter or click to view image in full size It’s that time again, and Axel, a wild and crazy Belgian Malinois, is itching to read your Animal House drabble, so please don’t let him down. He gets cranky when he feels let down, and you don’t want to see him when he’s cranky. Here are the Rules Axel is very demanding, and he likes to see things done his way. So, here is his way, and you have a lot of options.
Monster in Our Midst: Defense Secretary Looks To Repeal 19th Amendment
The Secretary of Defense is a rabid Christian Nationalist who wants to take away a woman’s right to vote Press enter or click to view image in full size If you think Christian Nationalism is just fringe noise, you’re not paying attention. Pete Hegseth, the United States Secretary of Defense, and third in the line of succession, just proved it’s marching straight into the heart of power.
RWDrabble 2.0.217
Press enter or click to view image in full size It’s Thursday, and the ancient Greeks named it after Thor, the Norse god of thunder, since both Thor and Jupiter were gods associated with thunder and the sky. So when you say “Thursday,” you’re basically invoking a thunder god. Not a bad way to head into the weekend, particularly with this magic word: The twist is: You know the rules by now, but for our new folk, please don’t forget to read the guidelines.
Finding Mom-A Children’s Tale
“I brought you a housewarming gift; I heard it was your favourite,” said Loki, setting the blackened pinecone on a flat stone near the cave mouth. The gift glistened like midnight glass, each scale puffed and curled from careful roasting. From beneath a curl of moss, a whiskered nose emerged. Tippy the mouse crept forward, ears twitching, black eyes round as beads. He sniffed the pinecone with the slow gravity of a connoisseur. “I roasted it myself,” Loki said solemnly, curling his tail.
RWDrabble 2.0.215
Did you know that in ancient Rome, Tuesday was dedicated to Mars, the god of war — dies Martis — signifying action and conflict. No? Well, I didn’t either. I looked it up. Now, it’s that time again and here’s your magic word: They both reached for the same avocado🥑 As it is, I happen to love avocados, except I have to remember to eat them, or they overripen.
RWDrabble 2.0.214
I have less than a week before I have to go back to work. Sigh. Oh well, it’s good work, and just a few hours, so that counts for something. In the meantime, here’s the magic word and a twist for you to contemplate: It only made a sound when no one was looking 👻 Now, doesn’t this sound like fun, particularly if blessed with a vivid imagination? Once again, I’m looking forward to reading your drabbles, and don’t forget to bold your magic word and proofread! 😎
RW Drabble 2.0.213
Well, time flies, as they say, and the last few weeks have done just that, as I find myself the Prompter-in-Chief once again. Just for fun, I’ve hidden little Easter Eggs inside some of the featured images. See if you can find them. I do so hope you will have loads of fun with this wee challenge. I’m looking forward to reading your stories. Please don’t forget to proofread and BOLD the magic word. We editors thank you.
Jaguar Justice
Click this LINK to read the story for FREE. Join us at Fiction Shorts for daily writing fun. The brothers padded through the jungle, paws soft on damp earth. Sunlight flickered between fern fronds, dappling their spotted coats. Riko twitched his whiskers, sniffing the air. “Smell that?” They rounded a tree and froze. Two humans crouched by the riverbank, fiddling with a contraption of rope and steel. “Maybe jaguar,” Lumo said, tail flicking.
The Idol
“You don’t know how many times I wished I was more like you.” Donald paused mid-chew, his steak knife frozen above the plate. He looked up, brow arched, amused, calculating. “Like me how?” A slow grin tugged at his mouth. “You mean ruthless. Just say it.” She folded her hands in her lap. Her wineglass sat untouched beside her plate. “You don’t lose sleep after doing terrible things. I’ve always envied that.” Donald leaned back in his chair and laughed — deep, full of teeth.
Maurice the Mouse and His Elusive Balls
Maurice the Mouse and His Elusive Balls My best friend’s bathroom was ground zero for the weirdest day of my life. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a tiny voice say, “Excuse me, but you’re blocking my access to the cotton balls.” I froze, toothbrush halfway to my molars. Then I looked down. Perched on the edge of the sink was a mouse wearing tiny wire-rimmed glasses. “My name is Maurice,” he said. “And those cotton balls? Critical to my insulation project. Winter’s coming.
Is God a Unicorn?
Every Sunday morning, my neighbor Joyce gathers her five kids, loads them into her minivan, and heads to church. Joyce believes in a deity who parted seas, walked on water, and turned water into wine — though oddly, never into coffee, which feels like a missed opportunity. I, meanwhile, believe in Unicorns. Not because I’ve seen one (though I swear I saw ‘something’ in the woods last year), but because the idea gives me hope.
Dark Lore Digest Latest Prompt-Updated Guidelines
Here’s our newest prompt, complete with three twisted challenges to choose from. Pick one — or tackle them all — and you’ll have your readers sleeping with the lights on 👀. Wanna write spooky stuff? Leave your name in the comments. Something has been placed in the morgue’s cold storage that should not be there. It isn’t a body — not entirely. It’s a thing sealed in Drawer #17, bolted shut, covered in warding sigils now long faded. No one knows who brought it in or when.
“Buzz Off Silly Willy” A Honeybee Tale
Not a Medium member? CLICK HERE for the free version. Lola and Louie were just two honeybees living their best lives — buzzing, bumping into petals, and stealing nectar like tiny, fuzzy pirates. This spring morning, they were deep in pink tulips, high on pollen and sunshine. “This one tastes like Tuesday,” Lola said, face buried in a bloom. “You’ve got pollen on your butt,” Louie buzzed. A dark shadow fell over the tulips. Wings like coasters and a belly like a leather football. It was Willy the Wasp.
The Cage
By lantern light, Elias worked the iron, his hammer’s ring swallowed by the moan of wind through the pines. The forge stood alone at the edge of the village, blackened and half-sunk from the fire that killed his brother. Still, Elias welded, as if shaping metal could bind his guilt. One stormy night, a stranger arrived. Cloaked and silent, he offered Elias a pouch of coins — a windfall for a mere horseshoe.
Your Title is the First Impression-Make it Count
Your Title is the First Impression–Make it Count A great article can die in silence if the title doesn’t pull people in. On Medium, readers scroll fast. They decide in seconds whether your piece is worth a click. A good title isn’t just a label — it’s a hook. It promises value. It makes someone curious enough to stop scrolling. Think of your title as the headline of an ad. Would you click it? If not, rewrite it. Test different angles: • Tease the payoff without giving it all away.
Two Whales and A Shark
The ocean was quiet. Two baby whales frolicked nearby, splashing and diving. Nova looked around, heart pounding. “He said he’d be right back… but he’s gone.” Then they saw him — Toothy, the tiny shark, tangled in a cruel ghost net. He thrashed weakly, fins scraped and dull. The whales pushed and pulled, their little bodies straining as the net bit deeper. The cold water churned, but they refused to stop. With one last heave, the net tore free.
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