Scott A. Vancil
Bio
Writer/actor/director. I write poems, novels, short stories, comic books, and screenplays, in both standard form and iambic pentameter. (FYI: I do not use AI to write. I have never and will never use AI to write. All words come from me.)
Achievements (1)
Stories (34)
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Healthy
1st Edition: Originally Published on Vocal Media in 2021 2nd Edition: December, 9th 2025 - I am dreaming of data screens, metal shapes, floating numbers, bulging muscles, and the allure of fat-slimmed, rippling-bodied figures. A shock interrupts my heaven. My eyes open to a familiar ceiling, in familiar quarters, in a familiar, floating, apartment building. An alarm resounds throughout the bare, white walls- made blue by the hue of the nightlight. I am delighted to exchange Heaven for a treasure of equal weight.
By Scott A. Vancil2 months ago in Fiction
En Passant. Content Warning.
1st Edition: Originally Published on Vocal Media in 2021 2nd Edition: December 9th, 2025 - The refrigerator door hung open, expunging the cold air from the chillboxed realm of the keeper of the sustenance. Leftover rancidity wafted into flared, masculine nostrils—nostrils erupting with bushels of hair. It had been an Ocean Quahog’s age since the man had eaten anything. The light in the fridge had broken, and deluminated food had an unappetizing zeal. However, The Man knew if he had bothered to fix the problem, he would see that in the illuminated age, nothing was worth eating in the first place.
By Scott A. Vancil2 months ago in Fiction
The Captain Is Done?
The Captain Is Done? A Curtal Sonnet By Scott A. Vancil - (A Curtal Sonnet is a shorter sonnet with a half line on the end, and the format doesn't meet the minimum requirement for wordcount for Vocal, so I've left in an explanation explaining the form)
By Scott A. Vancil4 years ago in Poets
The Kind of Girl You'd Go To Hell For (Or) The Plunge
The voice sliced through his brain again, ‘Dogs don’t have souls; they don’t go to Heaven.’ ‘Bull,’ his consciousness volleyed as his finger curled around the metal, giving the crescent a warm little embrace.
By Scott A. Vancil4 years ago in Fiction
