Havok Publishing

Tag - loss / grief

A More Powerful Magic

“Trish, that’s amazing,” my best friend cooed as I drizzled the final icing whisker over the last ginger cat cookie. “You’ll win the scholarship tomorrow for sure!”
Still clutching the blue-handled frosting knife, I swiped the back of my arm across my forehead. “I wish I had your confidence, Bri.”
“Come on, girl,”

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Wings of Indigo

The tangled jungle darkened around Damon as the sun slipped from the sky.
“We will stop here for the night,” he called to the men trudging behind him. They eased the supply packs from their shoulders and threw themselves to the ground with weary sighs of relief.
All except one.
“Are you sure

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The Organic Treatment

It was a particularly slow Saturday at March Funeral Home.
Orla had let her eyes drift away from her work to watch the snow falling in thick flakes outside the window. Located on a reclaimed cemetery, the mid-tier establishment had a generous forest plot that allowed for outdoor services—and a picturesque office view.

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The Soul Stealer

The sun sets, and wispy clouds above me glow a faint orange. This means I now have ’til the break of dawn to find the creature who stole my mother’s soul.
And kill it.
If I fail to reunite her body and soul before the creature returns to its realm with the

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Falcon Ledge

My father said I’d find my inheritance in the cliffs.
We walked there many chilly evenings before he died. I loved the mighty crash of the ocean against the white rock walls below us. So majestic and haunting.
I always had a feeling this captivating place had something to do with my father’s occupation.

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I’m here by doctor’s orders. The last place I want to see is Death’s Curve. I despise every stick, every inch of pavement, every pebble along this road. You’d hate seeing where your daughter died too.
This is the sort of place teenagers used to go to neck when I was younger.

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The Hardest Words

The clock struck nine and the dog winked out of existence.
George watched, openmouthed, from the breakfast table, the scent of bacon tickling his nostrils. Behind him, Mary hummed to herself over the crackle of the frying pan. He looked around slowly, measuring his movements.
She turned. Her hazel eyes sparkled with life,

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More Than Stories

“Well, Gram, here’s to you.”
Kevin popped the cap off a bottle of beer and tilted the first sip of pleasantly bitter brew onto his tongue. Gram had never cared for alcohol much. That was probably Gramp’s fault—too many bad memories—but Kevin’s after-dinner beer tended to accompany reflection.
And tonight was

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Island Palm

Green was her favorite color. Linzi used to call it the color of life. She was such an unusual child; she’d even begged to have the house shutters painted in Island Palm.
Now when I see green, it just reminds me of her death.
I sit next to the rain-splattered window, catching

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Magpie Boy

Go see a show, Lindsey. Get out of the house for one evening.

My neighbors like to give advice—some of it better than others.

How can I see a musical without Amaliah? That’s like betraying her memory. My fingers clench around Tico’s leash, and he looks up

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The Color Gold

The table was cold against my back.
“Mrs. Young, before we begin the Neurological Reinvigoration Process, we have to ask you some final questions.”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Young, but we need you to give us verbal confirmation for all questions. Do you understand?”
I started to nod, then caught myself. “Y-yes.

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The Pickle Jar

Rule one: never let anyone see you put the pickle jar back on the guardrail. Jaxa tugged on her black ninja shirt, which overlaid matching black pants and blended with her dark hair.
Rule two: look epic on every mission.
The still silence dragged at her heels as Jaxa fumbled out of her

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