PODCAST

The Scotto Grotto (org)

Welcome to my wall scrawls.

All Episodes

Day 20,701 day 7, ghoul

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/07

Graveyard stroll tonight, just me and the local ghoul again – tall fella, bones like a xylophone, hair doing its own haunted thing. He’s out there under a blue moon, gnawing thoughtfully on what might be last week’s femur, looking more contemplative than terrifying. A philosopher of the crypts, maybe. The pumpkins around him grin … Continue reading Day 20,701 day 7, ghoul →

Day 20, 701 syntax and soil

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/07

day 20,701 – salem, cool and gray Rain threads through the morning, fine and steady. The town feels hushed, all motion dampened. I sit by the window with a warm cup, watching clouds rearrange themselves like code rewriting in real time. Most of the day I’ve been building quiet systems – lines of logic, small … Continue reading Day 20, 701 syntax and soil →

Day 20,700

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/06

Day 6 of #mabsdrawlloweenclub2025, theme: Werewolf. Tonight’s drawing glows in the colors of a dream – deep blue woods, bright moon, and a lone shape caught mid-step between beast and person. The werewolf stands under that big swirl of light like it’s both a curse and a calling. Old stories say the change came with … Continue reading Day 20,700 →

Day 20,699

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/05

Day 5 – the forest sprite There’s been a rustling in the leaves these last few nights – not the usual scurry of chipmunks or whisper of wind through the birch. Something else. A shape that doesn’t quite belong, but also doesn’t seem out of place in the way a dream isn’t out of place … Continue reading Day 20,699 →

20,698 Day 4 – Haunting

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/04

The child’s room holds the hush of night like a jar cupping fireflies. Curtains drawn, clock tick steady, the small figure beneath quilts drifts toward sleep. Yet, each night lately, the air glows just so. Not a streetlamp’s trespass, not a passing car, but a presence – pale and luminous, shaping itself in the quiet. … Continue reading 20,698 Day 4 – Haunting →

Day 20,697

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/03

Day 3 of #MabsDrawlloweenClub, the word is Witch. Lore remembers witches as bridges – one foot steady on the earth, the other stepping into the unseen. They brewed teas for the feverish, knotted threads to guard travelers, whispered to seeds so crops would grow strong. Their owls weren’t just companions but guides, watching through shadow … Continue reading Day 20,697 →

Day 20,696 – familiar

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/02

Today’s topic is my little striped familiar, padding the halls like a detective on assignment. Nose to the floor, tail aloft like a flag, she inspects each corner and doorway as though the secrets of the universe might be tucked behind the shoes or under the sofa. Chirps, mews, and soft trills punctuate her patrol … Continue reading Day 20,696 – familiar →

Day 20,695 : Oct 1, 2025

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/10/01

🍂✨ First of October arrives quietly in the mountains, carrying that delicate shift in the air that makes you pause at the door and just breathe. The edges of the Blue Ridge catch the morning sun like a slow flame, tinged with gold and faint rust, while the fog lingers low in the valleys, stretching … Continue reading Day 20,695 : Oct 1, 2025 →

Day 20,694

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/30

Skunky bonanza! Last night turned into quite the skunk gathering. Four adults came through, each distinct, each with their own way about them. King was there – unmistakable, with that white crown on his head set against a mostly black coat. He always carries himself like he knows he’s the monarch of the yard. Two … Continue reading Day 20,694 →

Day 20,693

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/30

Rain is easing into mist this afternoon. Another envelope from Lowe’s, their “exclusive credit offer,” all bold letters and promises of savings. They want you to think it’s a golden ticket, but the shine wears off quickly. The fine print is the trick—high interest, too many strings, and not much protection for the folks who … Continue reading Day 20,693 →

Backyard zoo assortment

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/28

Movies Mummy’s Tomb / Captain Clegg

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/27

Tonight’s viewing – The Mummy’s Tomb Lon Chaney Jr. takes over as the mummy, though you’d barely know it under all those wrappings – his main job is to lumber menacingly and strangle folks in darkened rooms. He does it well enough. The pace is unhurried, dreamlike, and at times a little sleepy, like watching … Continue reading Movies Mummy’s Tomb / Captain Clegg →

Day 20,690

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/26

Little skunk has come round again, padding soft through the damp dark. The camera picked him up tonight, and you can hear him – sniffling, clicking, a tiny percussion of curious noises as he moves along. Almost conversational, like he’s talking to the ground, or humming a tune meant only for his nose. He seems … Continue reading Day 20,690 →

Day 20,689

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/25

Before the dawn had quite shaken itself awake, the young skunk returned. Rain still stitched the air in fine threads, soft drizzle darkening the soil and whispering against leaves. The camera caught sight of the little wanderer moving with the same calm assurance as before, stripes dimmed by the hour but still bright enough to … Continue reading Day 20,689 →

Day 20,688

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/25

Junior Stinkman visits on a rainy Wednesday night Tonight’s visitor: one damp but undeterred young skunk. Rain on and off through the evening, soft enough to make the air smell green and sharp, heavy enough to leave the ground shining. A young skunk padded through tonight, bold stripes gleaming even under the steady patter of … Continue reading Day 20,688 →

ATLAS as poem

The Scotto Grotto (org) ·

2025/09/24

Whispers tonight, not about lawns or coyotes.This time it’s the intel grapevine. Stories about the interstellar Atlas object.Aluminum core, heat shields, propulsion pulses.Closer now, slipping past radar. Some say Webb caught it before it cloaked itself.Signals went dark after a radiation pulse.Conspiracies bloom like mushrooms.Extra energy, smaller companions, glowing like tiny suns. I don’t believe … Continue reading ATLAS as poem →

418 results