Agency Returned: Redemption Shorts

By Rei Rosenquist

Fenugreek works without blinking. Love lost, sweet Skailore gone. The seasons turn over as before. Time and life marches on. Only, Fenugreek remains the same.

 

Then, one stormy night, a knock sounds against Fenugreek's door. Opening it demands risk. Fenugreek turns the knob, but keeps the safety chain securely in place. Through the thin crack, a dark voice speaks.

 

Is it Skailore come again? Or has it the world come banging, demanding Fenugreek accept change?

 

A challenge, an offer, and a journey into the unknown. Will Fenugreek strike out or close the door, unmoved?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rei Rosenquist
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223935599

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

Agency Returned

AGENCY RETURNED

A REDEMPTION SHORT STORY

REI ROSENUIST

Copyright © 2023 by Rei Rosenuist

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

About the Author

Also by Rei Rosenuist

ONE

Acircular time piece with many moving gears sat on a black stone banister, quietly ticking away the seconds and firsts. Then, one big clunking click snapped against the warm dry air of the small dimly lit den. At the same moment, a gust of wind grabbed a branch outside and sent it snapping against the antique window pane, making a sound like a bird clacking to get in. Through narrow cracks in the window frame, wind howled and grumbled. A myriad of voices raised in lament.

I sat up in my worn wooden high back chair, ears perked.

Another gust whispered untold secrets through the wood frame of my apartment.

I sagged. Nothing more dangerous than some wind. I returned my gaze to the sprawling aged oak desk where a letter lay with blotched ink at my left elbow. My fingers twirled a very expensive real quill pen, gifted from a recent client. The letter's ink blot was no fault of this pen, but my own carelessness. Lack of inability to pen the words I wanted. My eyes slid up to the clicking time piece.

Zero click. The hour of tragedy and struggles.

I stood. Old wooden floorboards creaked as I crossed the small studio to boil water on the fire potbelly stove. Hot tea ought to stave off the cold creeping in from the harsh unseasonable storm outside. Above the stove hung a collection of wooden spoons and a single true copper pot. Along the well-worn handle, a hand-pressed label caught a glint from the guttering candle light on the mantle. This, I touched with a single fingertip. It was cool, chilly. A reminder of the storm both in my heart and in the air.

From Strayer, with love. To the one and only Skailore, I read aloud with a soft cadence, pronouncing your name as if it were two words. Sky and Lore. The keeper of the stories of the sky. An apt name for a space-born ambassador who descended back to Earth in order to save us all.

If only to save me from myself.

I sighed and moved across the room, tea in hand, and stood astride the desk. Looking down at the unfinished letter. Not to a client.