The Rose Sprite: A Short Story

By Renna Olsen

Maggie, wife and new mother, feels safe in her home and the surrounding fields and forests. She never lent credence to her mother’s tales of the fairy folk, passed down through the generations back in the Old Country, for that was far away and long ago. But all that changes on one fateful day in her rose garden, when one careless mistake pits Maggie and her husband John against an unseen foe bent on vengeance. If she wants to save her child, Maggie must take drastic measures to make things right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renna Olsen
• Release date: Mar 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463726402

Renna Olsen

The Litzophreniacs3 is a trio of authors and family members collaboratively writing primarily science fiction, horror and paranormal thrillers. With mother Nancy, son Eric and daughter Anne, the Litzos as we like to call ourselves, have finished multiple books and are working on new projects. We write under the pen name Renna Olsen.

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The Rose Sprite

A Short Story

By Renna Olsen

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,

places, events and incidents are either

the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events

is purely coincidental.

©2013, litzophreniacs3, LLC.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, the please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Litzophreniacs3. LLC at Smashwords

The afternoon shadows had lengthened where they fell across the old house’s wide back porch as Maggie O'Brien, nee Kilkenney, shelled peas into a wide and intricately woven basket. The old woman looked forward to the coming sunset and its cool breezes. She startled and glanced up from her task when a faint tinkle of laughter sounded from the rose garden. The woman swept her gaze over the garden in response to the flutters of fear arcing through her thoughts. The peas fell from her hand as she rose up heedlessly from her task. Then, suddenly weak kneed with relief, Maggie sank back down to her seat when she saw her granddaughter come racing into view.

Her granddaughter, Abigail, was an ethereal and beautiful child. She looked very much like her mother, Lorelei, Maggie’s daughter. Abigail hurried up the rows between the bushes, red with exertion and happiness. Her long, gently curling locks had begun to escape their once careful braids and a few strands of golden hair clung to her sweaty face. She ran out of the garden, jumped up onto the porch, and fell onto the swing next to her grandmother, and with a whoosh of breath, said, Hi, Nana.

Hello, my sweet. Are you having fun?

Yep. I lost Derrick in the orchard. Abby’s eyes darted up to Maggie’s face. Nana, why do you put out milk and honey every night? Is it for the kitties?

Well, some of it is for the kitties and some is for the wee folk. It’s not that the kitties need it. They make do very well around here, keeping Grandpa’s workshop clear of mice.

As