Havok Publishing

Tag - ghosts

The Rocking Chair

He was invisible.
At least, that’s how they treated him.
Roman sat in the weathered rocking chair on his front porch, a light spring breeze tossing his thinning hair. The late afternoon sun raced to hide its face from the world. He sighed.
All was right when he sat in his favorite chair.

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The Divide

Most people thought the cemetery was haunted. I knew better. It sat right atop the divide where the veil between worlds was weakest. Moonlight spilled through the clouds above, and when a sudden chill on the breeze drew goosebumps down my arms, my heart soared.
He’s here.
Jake. My sweet Jake, walking with me

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The Lady’s Counsel

By Patrick M. Fitzgerald Merrick rapped the door’s ornate knocker. “Garrett is one of the most honorable knights of the Order of the Trinity. He retired years ago, and his reputation is impeccable.” The initiate, Derrin, showed him the list of names.  Every one but Garrett’s was crossed out. “I hope you’re right, sir. He’s

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Staff Saturday featured image

The Ride

The wipers of the ’66 Corvette swept the rain from the windshield, but the downpour blurred Duncan’s view of the darkened road, and the headlights didn’t provide much help either. After the day he’d had, he just wanted to get home. Thankfully, the purr of the engine eased the tension in his back.

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Wacky Wednesday featured image (season 2)

Let Your Grandma Be Your Guide

My undead grandmother is my conscience.

By “undead” I don’t mean a decrepit, old woman who looks like she shouldn’t still be sucking wind. I mean a decrepit, old woman who died of a heart attack three months ago yet still manages to ruin my life.

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Fantasy Friday featured image (season 2)

Resurrection in a Bottle

I phase into the spirit realm, bottled storm in hand. Ethereal mist presses in on me from every direction. Supposedly, ghosts can find their way through it by instinct. Some stay here for decades, unraveling, their fragmented thoughts contributing to the haze.
My Laura wouldn’t do the same. She’ll be at the station,

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Mystery Monday featured image (season 2)


She turns as I approach. Girl in a tan hoodie with wisps of long blond hair. The way her hood is up, I assume she’s wearing an IdentMask, and I’m right. Black haze conceals her face. Her eyes are red, glowing Xs, and her mouth a sewn-shut line. It’s a cheap, basic mask,

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Fantasy Friday featured image (season 2)

Second Chances

“I can’t find anything wrong with you, Frank.” The doctor leaned back in his chair to look at his clipboard over his wire-frames.
“Come on, Doc. There’s got to be something. This ain’t normal.” Frank put his head in his hands. “I’m tellin’ you, I’ve been hearing music for three days straight.”

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Mystery Monday featured image (season 2)


What a nightmare—the squealing brakes, the shouts, the crash.
It was enough to jolt Jenny out of bed and out the door in record time. She wasn’t sure what drew her to the old mansion, only that she had to go.
Leo had always hated that place.

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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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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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