The Harvester Novels & Stories

If it was something that involved buying or selling, I was out! It led me to a game, “The Harvest”. “Howdy!”, a mascot popped up. Quite ugly if I might say. “Please add player name” “Uhhm…”, recalling what Laura had said about using my real name, I decided to use something else. “Farmer…”. “Please choose your weapon, Farmer!” “Weapon?”, I asked out loud seeing the guns and knives mixed with farm utensils in what looked like a farming game. It made no sense.

Elara asked, "Is Harvey at Atkina Church?" Leonard nodded and handed her his iPad. On the screen was a video sent by Harvey's guards. In it, Harvey wore gray work clothes and black rubber boots, carrying a large plastic bucket in each hand. Upon closer look, he even had labor gloves on. He was hauling the heavy buckets toward the vegetable patch. "He's…" Elara gasped. "Fertilizing the garden." She fell silent for a few seconds, then peered at the iPad again, as if doubting her own eyes. This was unbelievable!

"The harvester isn't just a ship. It’s an antenna. Every strike I make, Silas learns my frequency. He’s not trying to kill us he’s trying to sync with me." Alexander felt a sharp, stabbing pain behind his eyes, a rhythmic thumping that matched the harvester’s orange pulse. Suddenly, his vision doubled. He saw the hallway as it was, and then he saw it as a digital wireframe, pulsating with data-streams he shouldn't be able to perceive. "Alex! Your vitals!" Jax screamed from the airlock of the Vanguard-1. "Your heart rate is hitting two hundred! There’s a signal originating from inside your neural link!"

The moment Chatrine obtained the phone number of Sebastian Harper’s subordinate, the man reckless enough to threaten Liam into selling the gallery, she moved without hesitation. No wasted time, no second thoughts. She immediately handed the number to Tobias Harlot and asked him to trace the unknown contact. Tobias Harlot was more than a genius capable of following digital footprints without leaving a single crack behind. With the power he possessed, he had access to communication networks across the world. As the founder of the century’s largest browser empire, he could reach databases scattered across the globe. Even state and military secrets were hardly beyond his reach.

He repeated, his voice matching the frigid eyes that were now narrowed to dangerous slits. I'd known the hunter's association would be searching for her, and I'd known it was only a matter of time before they actually found her, but I'd assumed they wouldn't dare act the moment they discovered who I was. The last thing I expected was for them to storm onto my property trying to forcefully take her back. Whoever was currently in charge of the association was dumber than a rock, it would seem. Even a child could tell the association as it currently stood was no match for me.

"They’re not waiting for the 29 days. They’re 'Clearing the Cache' to make room for the 'Hive-Mind' transition." Through the speakers of the server room, I heard a scream. It was a scream I knew. "ELARA! HELP US!" It was my mother’s voice, broadcast through the digital static of the Harvester’s intake. "The Harvester is pulling them in," Hope cried. "If they get sucked into the 'Trash' folder... they’re gone forever!" --- ### The Choice of the Flesh I didn't have 29 days. I didn't even have 29 minutes. I looked at the iron pipe in my hand. It was a pathetic weapon against a corporate god. I looked at Silas, whose hologram was fl

"Wiped out!" The system's female announcer echoed across the arena as the eliminations were confirmed, and the entire stadium erupted into thunderous, ear-splitting cheers. Down below, Stacy jumped up and down in excitement. She had even screamed herself hoarse. Backed by our mid-lane super minions, we surged forward and steamrolled their high ground. With a sharp, shattering sound, the enemy crystal exploded, and a golden "Victory" flashed across the screen. We had done it. Crown Hunters' reign had ended, and the national championship belonged to us.

As I continue to make my way, I think of how different his life is going to be once he officially takes his position and if we would even have time for each other. I doubt it. I sigh as I arrive at my destination and head into the shed and grab some tools. The task for today? To collect the remaining harvest, and then uproot some of the plants that won't survive the colder weather. I move to the first section and get to work, soon having to put my hair up as I start to sweat. Thankfully there isn't too much to collect, and soon I'm moving on to uprooting. Dig, scoop, rip, and toss. Rinse and repeat. I work away tirelessly, and soon I've finished majority of the task in a few hours time and d

Why was the thought of her walking away now harder than when she left the first time? If she left, he would follow her. That’s what he would do because a big part of him was telling him it was time to do what he hadn’t been able to do back then. “What happens here when there’s a typhoon?” Alexa suddenly asked, breaking the long silence and absence of bickering. He snapped back to reality and glanced at the rearview mirror. “If there are crops, they get damaged—sometimes just a little, but sometimes up to 80%. We lose money, but we recover during other harvests, especially in summer. Profits triple, so we don’t really lose much,” he explained.

" CRASH. The porch railing exploded into splinters. A Reaper the massive, armored harvester smashed through the perimeter. Its serrated blades spun with a terrifying, high-pitched whine, chewing through the wooden fence like it was paper. The white mist of the salt spray hissed from its nozzles, killing the grass ahead of its treads. "They're inside the wire!" Vance roared, firing his rifle at the harvester's reinforced windshield. The bullets sparked and ricocheted harmlessly. "Get the kids back!" I ordered. But the children couldn't move. They were rooted. Fifty Gray Children sat on the porch and in the yard, their toes buried deep in the soil, trapped by th