Through the Shell: Siblings Grimm, #3

By Rei Rosenquist

Marble lives within the shell, surrounded by life but no friends. The world outside looks so big, so green, so alive. Marble wants desperately to venture outside!

A break occurs. The shell, no longer perfect.

Marble takes a chance, gathers resources, and ventures outside.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rei Rosenquist
• Release date: Oct 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215738382

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

Chapter 1

Life inside the castle is supposed to be ideal, but in reality – it sucks.

The massive four-poster bed is a perfect example. With its soft plushy down and huge pillows, the massive sea of fabric is too soft, too comfortable. So, tonight, Marble has resolved to be a rebel and sleep on the floor. Hard and real. It isn’t dirty, though. Maid.bot makes sure of it, comes in every day at 3:00 pm to clean it with the auto-hoozer.

To say clean is an understatement, and to say Maid-bot did anything isn’t true. The bot stands in the bedroom’s threshold and pushes a button. The auto-hoozer roars to life like a big dl-flick of a white and gold bengel lion. The antiseptic blue light washes over everything.

If anyone were in the room at the time, it’d all be over for them. Auto-hoozers don’t distinguish between living and dead. They just wipe everything out. It leaves the room smelling nasty. Like body ash. Marble only knows about that because of Gran.

Gran is dead. Vaporized by the funeral room at 210 years old.

Marble breathes in the residual smell of death and misses Gran something awful.

The sadness pulls at the middle of Marble's chest where emotions sit. At least, that's what it feels like. A big gaping hole where important things should be buried.

Marble stands up from the floor with an idea. Time to be more of a rebel. Marble flings the bedroom door open and leaves, pads down long hallways and wide banister stair cases into the kitchen where Shel will be awake.

Shel is the persona of the rotisserie device in the main area of kitchen nook where Marble spends a lot of time in life. Eating is something you can do when you’re hungry, but also when your bored. And living in this godawful castle is the definition of boring.

I miss Gran, Marble announces as a greeting, pushing open the kitchen door.

Just log in to the main account and have a chat, Shel answers.

It’s not the same, Marble thinks but doesn't say.

Shel is friendly and tries to help Marble pass the time. But at the end of the day, its just the bubbly persona of wires and machinery. How could a program understand anything about the difference between real and fake?

It’s a human thing.

Gran’s dl-persona just isn’t Gran.

Marble can tell.

End of story.

Thanks, Marble says instead and comes over to trace a finger over the fake wood grain of Shel's printed frame. Round and round the artificial rings go. Marble likes to pretend this place isn’t a massive thirteenth story refab Euro castle, but a tree standing tall in some grandiose forest where the huge old trunks all open up their bellies for little human kids to stay alive in.