They will See You, Reaching

By Rei Rosenquist

For the first five fingers of early morning's red sunlight, Ono stands at the edge of the world. This morning, Adris stands there too.

"Why are you here?" Ono asks, not angry but not pleased either.

Adris tells of a troubling vision. A great struggle is coming. An unknowable enemy, descending.

The people must prepare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rei Rosenquist
• Release date: Dec 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201040499

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

1

Morning

For the first five fingers of early morning’s red sunlight, Ono stands at the edge of the world -- an isthmus called Rue Point. The ocean on both sides of the rocky, mossy land bubbles and froths. The sour yet sweet-smelling needle and cone forest borders the front and behind like two green sentinels perched and protecting the one lone body standing on a jagged rock outcropping.

Ono, gem-adorned in all her furs, turns a broad, furrowed brow toward the wind as if to stare the sky down. A fragrant salty wind sweeps cross her dark tree-bark colored face. White hair whips and curls like long fingers around her broad, leather-wrapped shoulders. White-capped waves hiss and reach for the narrow strip of jutting land where Ono stands all alone. Far below her exposed feet lay the leftovers from settlements past. Felled logs and drift-trash. Old boat masts and half-eaten indigo crab heads.

Ono spreads her arms ritualistically, bending down and stretching her chest open wide. The air all around her takes a long, slow breath in. And as she stands erect, regal and straight, the wind pulls from the north so hard and cold it makes her face match the surroundings – salty and washed clean.

I watch from the forested background, noting the slant of Ono's body into the wind. A stance she takes when she is deep in meditation. I try not to make a sound, but when something swooshes over my head, I duck. My wood-soled shoe snaps a twig. Ono's head swivels around like an owl's, bright gold-green eyes burrowing into my forehead.

Adris, is all Ono says.

Her voice is one short hand-clap of sound against the shush shush of the torrential shore. She leaps down from the low granite outcrop she stood on and comes toward me, regal crimson robes billowing around her shell and bone decorated ankles like hands, grabbing, trying to pull her body back to the ocean and away from me. I bow low, awaiting her approach.

We meet one another at the edge of spongy moss undergrowth and rocky black sand. Ono eyes me, hands on hips. I lean against the trunk of