Havok Publishing

Redo

How to Train Your Slime

Harold’s parents were allergic to most pets, but sometimes he brought animals home just to be sure. He made valiant efforts with kittens and puppies, and he tried a Gila monster on them that didn’t go over well.

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Finnegan Transmitting

Not again. Gerald could not do this one more time.
He rubbed his eyes. Michael’s words glowed at him in angry orange from the vidscreen:
REPORT INADEQUATE. RANKS MUST NOT BE ABBREVIATED. REFERENCE TIMECORPS REG. 927.3. RESUBMIT.
Gerald pushed back from the console and floated across the capsule until he bounced lightly against the opposite wall.

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The Harvester

Two multiple-homicides in a 3-block radius, and I got the one with no survivors.
Dark backroom. Dead bodies still seated around a game of poker.
Each man was a high-ranking member of the Martinez Gang. Even if I didn’t know them from run-ins or rap sheets, the distinctive neck tattoos advertised it.

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Misfire

I peer through the scope of my crossbow. From my vantage point in the rafters, I’m as good as invisible to the royal family below. As if being a male peasant doesn’t make me invisible enough already. But all that is about to change.

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Murmurations

The field beside my childhood home attracts starlings. When I was young, I’d sit on the wooden fence and watch them. My father was always working in the garage behind our house, but whenever he saw me there, he’d stop and join me.
“Those are murmurations,” he’d tell me as dark clouds of starlings rose against the gray winter sky.

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Alan and the Magic Lamp

“By the power of the lamp held in your hand, your smallest wish is my command.”
A low, prolonged squeal escaped Alan’s wide smile. His eyes ping-ponged between the lamp he held and the ethereal figure before him.
“Though your wishes cannot exceed three, there are no bounds for what they may be.”

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Hack

Your little act ends here. You fool no one. Now breathe. Relax. By the time you finish reading this message, all your online accounts will have been deleted; all your online profiles will have been wiped out. There will be nothing to recover. No data left anywhere whatsoever.

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Ghost of The Golf Course

What is it about living teenagers that makes breaking into places after hours so appealing to them? I mean, look at me. I get rules. Don’t be seen, don’t be heard, don’t make mist unless the forecast calls for it. And curfew? I follow curfew every night. I’m only allowed out after dark, anyway.

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