A collection of fictional mini-narratives, all inspired by real-world facts.

Ranging from dark to funny to whimsical, every story is a seed of truth firmly rooted in our current world.

Daily Story Seeds are narrative appetizers, little “what if?” writing exercises that often have a hint of the fantastical, though they’re inspired by some factual online post I’ve read.

Back in 2015 I wrote a DSS each day for over 90 days. This sampler of 30 Story Seeds is a selection of my favorites.


Praise for Daily Story Seeds

Scott Walker’s Daily Story Seeds are contagious flights of fancy, perfect pick-me-ups for when the imagination is lagging. Discovering the original factual inspirations for each seed is almost as much fun as reading the stories. Almost, but not quite.
— Alexis Niki, story consultant and filmmaker
Chefs always talk about the search to create ‘the perfect bite’ — the single mouthful that encompasses the entire experience of a dish — Scott Walker’s Daily Story Seeds deliver a perfect bite of fiction, every day.
— Gareth-Michael Skarka, game designer and writer
I love Daily Story Seeds! Like any gardener knows, not all seeds sprout; many I keep in a file marked ‘clever amusement.’ Then there’s one, or two–no, three–that find fertile soil in my mind membranes, take root, and blossoms into an actual creative project. It happened to me, it can happen to you, too.
— Aaron Vanek, writer and game designer


Interesting. Can I Read a Sample?

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“Desert Drift”

[inspired by an article on the U.S. bombing Mexico (twice!) and the trailer for Disney’s Tomorrowland movie]

Jon swore he’d never again follow Gears into the desert at night, but here he was.

And there was Gears, looking every bit like a desert drifter: lit up like a Christmas tree and covered in electronic optics, sniffing for the silent spots he swore were out there. Gears called them slip winds. Jon called them pipe dreams, though never to Gears’ face.

The drifter walked like a drunkard, weaving left then right then back again, following a scent of positrons hoovered up by his surveillance gear.

Jon looked up at the night sky, a cloudless canvas sparkling with stars. Maybe they’d be home before sunrise. Maybe he’d be early enough for the first batch of migas tepitanas at El Caribe. Heck, maybe Gears would even buy.

‘You catch the latest cast out of Mexicali?’

Jon looked down, realized he was talking to himself. Gears was gone, vanished without a sound, and Jon was standing alone, surrounded by miles of sand, cold realization settling on his shoulders that perhaps Gears wasn’t completely crazy after all.