Havok Publishing

Jeff Gard

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Tale of the Spectral Kite

“In the tales of them that came before, there’s talk of the otherworldly, spectral kite.” Pop’s cybernetic eye stared down the empty barrel of his gun. The rest of the parts stretched across his lap. “The settlers said you could see clean through the bird’s skin, past its bones, straight to its beating heart.

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Slow Burn on Costmo 6

Radiation bathes my rig, titanium panels and tungsten ribs shimmering like molten metal. Apart from the aura of impending death, it reminds me of my childhood, when I’d squeeze my eyelids shut while staring into the sun. Despite my best efforts, sunlight always leaked through the thin membrane of skin in a warm, blood-red glow.

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The Santa Maria’s Last Tale

“In the tales of them that came before, there’s talk of the Santa Maria buried in the vast Noachis Desert, where yucca and sage cling to its thirsty soil. Nobody knows how the starship got stranded there, only that it crossed a great distance in search of treasure.”
As a galaxy of stars spiraled overhead

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Meet Feet

Horace’s toes tapped to the rhythm. They inched toward the DJ and tried coaxing Horace from his table. He dragged the insistent digits under his chair. They pranced forward again. With one last sigh, Horace tossed away his beer and slipped into the throng of swaying couples.
His feet followed the rhythm perfectly

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Safety Recall

NOTICE OF SAFETY RECALL: DOMESTIC BOTS

According to our records, you recently purchased a domestic bot from The Gentrifix Corporation. A routine safety check revealed an anomaly in the bot’s code that makes it aggressive when exposed to the unique shade of Martian Red.

Contrary to recent, unsanctioned news reports

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Raiders of the Last Cruller

Sunday morning, Bobby Jo Evans walked into Raiders Donuts and bought every single old-fashioned, jelly, long john, and cruller in the establishment. Armed with her pocketbook and righteous conviction, she knew only two things could kill the holy fire on that sacred day: faith without works and church without donuts.

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Negotiation via Looking Glass

“What the hell are you doing here?”
Neal was surprised that Lena, who was staring down his reflection in the vanity’s mirror, hadn’t asked the more obvious question: why was Neal aiming the gun at her back? Or maybe it was the right question; he still hadn’t pulled the trigger.

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The Messenger

Finding Seph was the easy part. She wore pomegranate-colored sneakers that glowed like taillights in the receding summer light. Stopping her was trickier. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she ran down the boardwalk along the ocean, seagulls following close and squawking at her.

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