At the Heart of Trickery

By Rei Rosenquist

The biggest festival in Stratford, North Carolina approaches: a Midwinter celebration of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. In the midst of the excitement, the magical powers around town swell. And Chandra--a transwoman witch in hiding--once again finds it impossible to hide.

"This year will be different," Chandra says to her tabby, a feral cat who one day appeared out of nowhere. Just then, a friendly stranger by the name of Apple appears at Chandra's window, reaches out...and offers the ability to travel to a whole new world. 

What will Chandra choose? 

To pass through the portal, and disappear for good...or might she ever find more to Stratford than meets the eye?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rei Rosenquist
• Release date: Dec 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386770381

Rei Rosenquist

Rei Rosenquist first remembers life as seen out the high window of a hotel balcony. Down below is a courtyard, swarms of brightly dressed tourists, the beach. The memory is nothing but a blue-green washed image. Warmth and sunlight. Here, they are three years old, and this is the beginning of a nomadic story-teller’s life. Over the years, they have traveled to many countries, engaged many peoples, picked up new habits, and learned new languages. But, some things never change. For them, these are stories, food service, and traveling. These three passions have bloomed from hobbies, studies, and jobs into a way of life. These days, Rei can be found in between Tokyo, Kailua, and Bellingham, Washington pouring beautiful latte art, baking off a batch of famous savory scones, and cozying up with a laptop to obsessively write mountains of dark speculative fiction. You can find Rei’s stories and blog at reirosenquist.com. You can also reach them via email at [e-mail] or connect via Facebook (Rei Rosenquist), Twitter (rylrosenquist) and Instagram (rylrosenquist).

Book preview

At the Heart of Trickery

At the Heart of Trickery

Rei Rosenquist

Tangled Sky Press

Contents

At the Heart of Trickery

Also by Rei Rosenquist

About the Author

At the Heart of Trickery

Outside the snow-covered window of a small lonely cottage, brightly colored streamers flap in a freezing breeze. From street pole to weather-worn street pole, strings of frost-peppered fairy lights make the city positively glow. Street lamps have all donned pale confetti-colored shades and their speckled light casts magical shadows on the gray snow-dotted cobblestone paths. These meandering roads duck and spin through ancient-style arches and modern-style doorways leading to the heart of Stratford, North Carolina.

There, on an old wooden stage, huge brilliant triangle flags wave to the potential visitors.

Good morning! Hello! Come for the Show!

From tired-out rafters above the stage, a banner alerts passers-by of the coming celebration: Midwinter's Coming of The Bard.

An elaborate but poorly-timed yearly festival put on by the Shakespeare society to try and urge the city’s 54,000 inhabitants into cheerful engagements to make for a happy, if not long and hard, winter. As if yet another repetition of the old, tired Midsummer's Night Dream painfully set in a winter wonderland could do that.

Most people buy into it. The pricey rare tickets. The outdoor standing-room-only arena. Every year, a packed audience stands shivering to the bone in their summer clothes—cleverly disguised shawls of thick wool and nude-colored long underwear.

Chandra alone isn’t thrilled.

Elbows lean against the wooden sill as she stares out the cottage window at the coming festivities. Several slow and steady breaths fog up the recently cleaned pane. A hand pressing over a frowning mouth reveals Chandra's deeply rooted dread.

She takes a tentative glance in the direction of the city's main square. A finger automatically raises and runs nervously against an aged necklace. The pendant is a small family crest. An heirloom passed down for generations. The last thing from Chandra's family that she kept.

Outside the window, at just the right angle, Chandra can see the stage. Complete with red curtains pulled back with tattered gold twine. Same stage, every year. The floor boards, covered now in flurries of snow, are well worn by the same actors playing the same exhausting roles.

Chandra sighs and gets up, starts pacing.

It's not just the cheesiness of the Midwinter festival that's unsettling. It's not the denial of the cold—standing out there talking as if the trees were all in full bloom and the summer solstice were around the corner while snow sprinkles down on clever hats full of felted flowers. And it's certainly not the town's merriment that gets Chandra up in arms. Hell, it's not even the sheer bore of it—the same events each winter solstice.

It's this: that every year on the longest night, at least one unexplainable occurrence happens.

Three years ago, a forest appeared out of nowhere and faeries hosted delightful tea parties everyone was too afraid to join. Two years ago, a field in full harvest offered pick-your-own delights. Again, nobody tried them. And last year? Well, last year was a different story all together.

Chandra shakes her head, trying to forget all the weirdness.

This year'll be different, Chandra says aloud to Orville, a big feral orange and yellow tabby who's just wandered in from napping. Sweet cat, Orville is. If not a strange and sudden roommate.

The poor dear showed up one day, raggedy and all bones, looking for scraps. Not being a monster, Chandra obliged. After that, the cat just stayed. Chandra inquired around town and posted posters, but no frantic owner turned up. So, the two became fast friends.

Orville purrs and rubs against Chandra's leg. Chandra reaches down to give Orville a scratch behind the ears.

We'll see. Things will be normal this year. Won't they?

Orville stretches high into a typical cat-like pose: claws extended, spine arched, tail dusting the ground. The cry that comes out sounds too much like No.

Hmph, Chandra play-scolds with hands on hips, pretending to be moody and failing because these goddamn hips are nothing to focus on. Flat cliffs, that's what they are. Of all the things the hormones fix, that's not one apparently. Not for Chandra, at any rate.

Orville looks up and yawns wide, as if laughing silently at Chandra's hippy plight. Chandra drops to a knee