Havok Publishing

Tag - Casting Call – Creator-Explorer

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Being Greene

Trixie sighed and threw the imperfect blossom she’d just crafted. It landed in a pile of other discarded blooms.
“Why can’t I get it right?” she moaned, putting her head in her hands. The ancient wood of the table was a prime example of her great-great grandfather’s work. The aged pixie had been

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Rust Bucket

It’s been weeks—months, maybe—since the world ended. Since my city burned. But the smoke lingers, turning the sky gray-gold.
I catch my breath in the shade of a dune, listening for something beyond the hollow rasp of wind over sand.
Trolls never give up once they have the scent

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A Spoonful of Doom

Coriander the Third grinned at the contraption in his hands. He’d created the greatest Dooms-Day invention this side of Gargon Ridge. He nodded proudly at the round, gleaming surface. It was the same perfect silver shade as the Fighting Evil Unit—or FEU—suits. Covering his invention with a cloth, he pushed through

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The Engineers

The rising twin suns peeked over shining blue mountains, casting their gaze on Woźniak’s hulking frame as he dipped his paintbrush into the can.
inside the cabin, a crackling record started playing and a centuries-old ghost sang about trees of green and the beauty of red roses.
Woźniak watched small droplets

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Peddler of the Galaxies

The prisoner still refuses to talk.
Hands clasped behind my back, I pace my cabin. Shutters dim the starlight lanterns on my desk, but the wide, paned window reveals the sparkling view of a myriad of stars to our stern. I can’t bring myself to pull the blinds, lest I miss some glimpse of pursuit.

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The Frost Iris

I’ve spent too much time in the underworld.
Atticus scowled at his reflection in one of The Drake’s shiny hull plates. Dark shadows drooped beneath his eyes, and his skin had taken on a bluish tint. Too many months breathing the fog in the netherwoods.
He hitched the burlap sack higher on his should

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Consigned to the Dark

The sinking sun cast the world in a sparkling, amber glow and my skin prickled with the desire to bask in the radiance. Of their own accord, my fingers escaped the confines of the shadows and found the sun’s rays. A smile spread across my face as the warmth bathed my skin.

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Trope Troopers

The ship’s hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss. My team stood behind me as the door lowered to create a ramp. I walked about halfway down and stopped. The grassy meadow we’d chosen for landing spread around us. A dense forest circled the meadow in every direction.
“I’ve got the xallenite,” Myra said

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All I Did Was Science

All I wanted was to make a world.
Stop looking at me. I can feel you looking at me. Judging me. I didn’t ask for much—not to rule a world that already existed, not to bend a galaxy to my will—only to make myself a cosmos, woven by my own mind.

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Where Butterflies Do Not Fly

“This should be it.” Kardan glanced at the map. “The mountain tomb of Arned the Curse-bringer. But all I can see is endless desert.”
A scorching wind scattered dust upon cracked earth. His wife squinted against the glare of the setting sun. “Are you sure you got the position right?”
Kardan gestured

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What Happens at Night

Diana slipped the final crystal into position and counted to five, just in case everything exploded. She’d taken all of the proper precautions, but even the best magical crystals had temperamental days. And if her project shattered again, she’d have to restart from scratch.
Fortunately, this time, the line of glittering crystals only pulsed

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Potts vs. the Museum of Doom

“Coppelia, the next time a cursed mummy comes to life and you think it’s a great chance to pretend to be Indiana Jones, leave me out of it!” Wolfgang Potts puffed as the two siblings darted down a dark museum hallway, lit by their flashlights and red emergency lights.
Coppelia shoved the sign

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