Every spring, the past called Cheroth back to a land that did not want her, compelling her against reason or need. She swept low over the tree line and into full view of the village, beating her wings in the slow rhythm of one trying to suppress hope. A woman caught her shadow and looked up.
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Havok Story Podcast, Episode 37: “The Red Hibiscus Bride” by Julisa Basak
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It had been three months since someone last licked me.
That was a weird experience.
The offending party apologized profusely and dropped me like I was a talking cupcake. Which, at the time, I was. Couldn’t really blame them for running away screaming.
Now, trying not to be nervous, I locked up my realtor’s
The drop freighter loses its savage grapple with gravity for a moment. Everything inside the vessel rises and falls from the interruption. Like those old music machines with the plastic wheels. Discs. Records. They’d collect dust, and songs would skip.
“Ya know…” starts Sergeant Cava, battle rifle resting against his chest. “
The house sits in darkness except for the faintest orange glow seeping between the downstairs window blinds. Probably the boys watching TV, bundled in blankets, hoping their dad won’t come home tonight.
You have no right to those kids. By human law, they belong to Earth. So says the human government.
Dreaming is one of the few comforts I have left.
I dream of the sunset sky glowing in shameless display, of a radiant amber symphony rising from the depths before the sun gives way to the moon. I dream, because the moment the true sun touches my skin, primal instincts to survive
The troops whispered the name amongst themselves: the legend, the lore.
The Phoenix.
A creature of orange, red, and yellow plumage, the bird on fire, the power that never died.
They said that it moved from one world to the next. Once the power enshrouded in its earthly vessel had evaporated in one
Sweat dripped from my brow as I arrived at the top of Kresden Mountain. I dropped onto a stony outcrop and turned toward the west to watch my city burn. Dark smoke plumed into the sky, spreading like a giant umbrella. I choked back a laugh. An umbrella was the opposite of
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“Kid. Hey, kid.”
Stuart felt a hand slap his cheek.
“You okay?”
Stuart groaned and opened his eyes. Something bright and orange hovered above him. “Yeah, I think so.”
He pulled himself up as his vision focused. The orange solidified into an upright tapir with a tortoise shell, the dorsal appendage of an anglerfish
I’m stuck between two dimensions and surrounded by darkness. I press my palm against the transparent panel of my floating prison. The gentle warmth emanating from the force field provides a sense of physical reality in this space. The walls—if you can call them that—are made of energy but firm to the touch,
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Tamrin’s prized pumpkin was missing.
Well, her second prized pumpkin. Her best one had vanished two weeks ago on the evening of Prince Charlin’s first ball. Then her second best one vanished the night of Charlin’s second dance. Months of hard work, love, and care down the drain.
It wouldn’t happen again. Tonight
The crier held out the letter Clip had waited two years for. An orange bow wrapped around the envelope’s crinkled and weathered form.
The mass of townspeople bustled around her. No one stopped to ask about the soldier who had just been announced dead. No one spared a glance.
“Do you ever pay attention?”
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