She will not listen to you. The sea witch’s warning rings in my mind as I ride a wave up to the ship floating like an empty snail shell. They’ve dropped anchor, and the royal vessel crests wave after gentle wave. Ornate sconces cast a warm, cheery glow across the bright blue streamers
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Beka Gremikova is a rising powerhouse of flash fiction prose. With fifteen stories published in 2020, she’s the latest winner of our new “Most Prolific Author” annual prize. She also holds the Editors’ Choice award title for her story “Unexpected Encounters of a Draconic Kind” which was published in the Bingeworthy anthology. Time-tested advertising principles
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Galia stared down at the cold waves tickling her bare toes and clutched Odessi’s hand. They stood alone on the beach, waiting. Finally, after fifteen years, the Change approached—they would trade their human legs and lives for tails and near-immortality.
Lightning crackled through the dark-blue sky. The fine hairs on Galia’s arms rose.
Cassandra Hamm, author of over 20 Havok stories and Readers’ Choice award winner, shares her publishing journey and how she found a dear critique partner and friend in fellow Havok author Beka Gremikova.
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This baby’s got zip!” The salesman leaned against the bright green lawnmower, flashing me a brilliant smile. “Gringolet here will cut your mowing time in half, Sir Gawain. You’ll be the Green Thumb of Camelot.”
I’d just been promoted into the Green Thumbs—otherwise known as the Knights of the Front Lawn—
All I need is a nightmare.
Alora paused on the threshold of the Dream Mines and took a deep, steadying breath. For the past century, she’d mined dreams to occupy herself while she waited for the chance to break her sleeping curse and leave the dreamworld forever. Sweet waking rather than sweet dreams.
She’s not coming, says the Wolf. It prowls outside my cottage door, snuffling.
I cower into my blankets. How big is it today? Large enough to blow down the door and swallow me whole in an instant?
I can’t let it in.
It’s Friday, the Wolf continues. She never comes on Fridays.
A good neighborhood stakeout always starts with a comfy porch swing and my famous pound cake. Archie’s curled up on my lap, watching the street for any sign of Uncannies—or rabbits. Ever since he got into a scuffle with a bunny—and lost—he’s been on his guard.
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This was the last time I’d ever let Matt drive Baby, my gorgeous poppy-red ATV.
We hit bump after bump trucking up the mountain. I hung onto Matt for dear life as we rumbled over clumps of clay rocks, spewing pebbles. Finally, he swung Baby to a stop. Around us stretched Heartbreak Woods,
The domed turrets of the Little Palace blazed a fierce rose-red. The color of magic. The color of a curse.
Mariya had to get there.
But a line of Rusakian soldiers blocked her road, their blood-red shields reminding her of all the lives lost during their occupation of her city.
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Go see a show, Lindsey. Get out of the house for one evening.
My neighbors like to give advice—some of it better than others.
How can I see a musical without Amaliah? That’s like betraying her memory. My fingers clench around Tico’s leash, and he looks up
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Ivan never expected his future to rely on a honeybee.
Just one more challenge. He clenched his fists as he stood before the golden door on the Ukran palace’s upper floor. If he succeeded, he’d free the imprisoned Tsarina Mischa as well as her subjects, who had all been cursed a week ago
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