Zach sliced the Demeter Ambrosia apple with his laser cutter. His mouth watered as the laser’s heat caramelized the juices. He placed the slice reverently on a piece of pound cake and raised it to his lips.
It tasted… normal.
He scowled and tossed the rest of the apple to Tetsuo.
Darkness hangs around me in the twelve-by-twelve-foot room like the sour coating of lemon on my tongue.
“Can you tell us who did it?”
Detective Smith motions toward the glass pane, the only source of light flooding the room. A chalky film grits against my teeth.
I lick my lips and assess the five men
Did you know? Havok runs on seasons. January to June 2019 was Season One: Rebirth July to December 2019 was Season Two: Stories That Sing January to June 2020 was Season Three: Bingeworthy July to December 2020 is Season Four: Sensational Did you know? We publish an anthology to celebrate the best stories of each
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I think maybe you’ve had enough, Sergeant Maxwell.” My partner’s eyebrow quirked as I slung back my second shot.
“You’ll wish you’d had two soon enough, rook.” The bitter aftertaste of a good espresso was always the best part of my day. In a world where coffee grants superpowers, it’s important to stay caffeinated.
“These are the practices we must observe,” Master Yvear said. “Neglect them, and we neglect life itself.”
“Yes, master,” Ranghur said dutifully for the thousandth time.
Or he supposed it was that much. He had been apprenticed to the temple on his seventh birthday, now over three years ago, and he could do the sums.
Deep within Midre Forest, the ghosts waited. Renard clutched a box of croissants to his chest. “Food is the way to the heart,” he muttered. Hopefully the saying applied to vengeful ghosts.
Because bringing food into the Flickers’ domain, especially after how they’d died… He shuddered. If the Flickers caught him before daylight, he’d be dead.
“Seriously? That’s what you’re gifting me?” I rolled my eyes at Amelia.
“What do you mean? It’s a good gift. It’ll keep you alive, right? So we can stay friends. I was worried being a fairy would change things, but if I’m your fairy…”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s just not what I was expecting.”
“Look at me, bringing home the bacon for my lady!” Fred hung his jacket in the closet and followed me into what used to be my kitchen. He excitedly inspected the enormous metal box that had replaced our cabinets, refrigerator, oven, toaster, blender, and microwave.
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Abe could feel the waitress’s eyes creeping toward the case notes as she hovered over the booth.
“Milk or sugar?” she offered.
“Just the coffee.” Abe snapped the folder shut in an aggressive motion. He had long since lost any patience for nosy onlookers and saw no need to treat them with tact.
Havok Story Podcast, Episode 11: “Silent Running” By Abigail Falanga
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Gossip shouldn’t feel like a responsibility.
I didn’t want to be the one to tell Stephen, but duty came in odd packages, and he needed to know. So, I squared my shoulders and pushed open the touristy saloon-style doors.
Pausing just inside, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.
Jack tore into the roasted chicken thigh, the heat of his anger suffusing with the warm tingling of his mother’s herb blend. The flavors of rosemary and thyme soothed him, their homey familiarity pushing against the sting of resentment.
He crunched down on a bone and spat it onto the ground.
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