Snow was falling hard outside when Bernard pulled his car into the driveway. His little sister, Cassie, was in the back, buckled into her car seat and looking grumpy. She was four, and that was a pretty understandable way for her to look at ten at night, after sitting in the back of a grocery store for hours with nothing but an old tv and DVD player with a stack of videos. Bernard was feeling pretty grumpy himself, after a morning of homework and a night at the store.

“Come on,” he said, opening her car door to undo the buckle on her car seat. “Let’s get you inside and into bed.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow, do you?” Cassie asked.

Tomorrow, Christmas Eve. The first Christmas Eve they’d had since the fire.

“No,” he said, “No work tomorrow. Or the next day, either.”

Cassie got out of the car and stumbled towards the apartment door. They walked all the way up to the top floor. Bernard hoped Cassie didn’t notice the condom wrapper on the stairs. She was the only child in the apartments, which normally only house students who didn’t want to live on campus. But Bernard couldn’t afford to move, and his parent’s house was gone.

His parents were gone too, for that matter.

Those dark thoughts in his mind, Bernard was surprised to see a package sitting in front of the apartment door. He picked it up, a little surprised at how heavy it was.

“Is it a Christmas present?” Cassie asked.

“Maybe,” Bernard said, looking at the return address. It was a jumbled mess of foreign looking stamps.

“Looks like Uncle Richie sent us something from the base,” he said.

“Oh!” Cassie cried, “Can we open it tonight?”

Bernard thought of the paltry excuses for gifts he’d been able to afford for her. A doll from the dollar store and some play food. A pair of shoes that she needed anyway.

“No,” he said, “We’ll wrap it up and save it for Christmas morning, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” Cassie said.

“Go get ready for bed,” he said, setting the box on the table. He’d wrap it later, he thought.

On Christmas morning, Bernard was woken by Cassie landing on his stomach. He sat up quickly, hoping to stop her from kneeing him anywhere tender. “Get up, get up, it’s Christmas!” she cried, shaking him. “Come on, I wanna see if Santa was here!”

“Alright, hold on!” he said, sitting up. “Let me get my glasses on.”

Cassie jumped from the bed, bouncing excitedly as Bernard pulled on his glasses. She waited impatiently as he went to the bathroom, then almost pulled him into their tiny living room.

Bernard braced himself. When she saw that there were only three gifts, one of them from Uncle Richie, she was sure to be upset.

But instead, she plopped down and started looking through the gifts. “Santa didn’t bring you anything,” she said, looking up at him.

“No,” Bernard said, “Santa doesn’t send presents to grownups.”

“Well, why not?” she asked.

“Because he just doesn’t. He only brings them for kids,” he said, “Open your presents.”

Cassie pulled the wrapping paper off of the doll and plastic food. She seemed delighted by both of them. Then, she picked up the present from Uncle Richie. “Here, you open this one,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Okay,” he said, taking the box from her. He ripped through the paper he’d wrapped the gift in, then pulled off the wrapping that held the box closed.

Inside he found a book with a dark leather cover. The words “Story Time” were embossed onto the cover in gold.

“Oh!” Cassie said. Holding her new doll, she crawled into his lap. “Can you read me a story?”

“Sure,” he said, opening the book to the first story. He read her one, then another. Both simple fairy tales, with beautiful illustrations. Flipping through the book, he saw that it was filled with them.

Cassie spent most of the day playing with her new toys. Bernard was amused that she was able to make up so many games with so little. They ate dinner and watched some Christmas movies on tv. Cassie seemed perfectly happy when she went to bed.

Bernard was less so. He had to go back to work tomorrow, which meant Cassie would have to go back to the break room in the grocery store. He couldn’t afford Christmas for her, couldn’t afford a decent sitter or daycare.

Uncle Richie helped as much as he could, Bernard knew. But he was overseas, and he was only about five years older than Bernard himself. Much like Bernard’s parents, there’d been a wide gap between the first child and the second.

The storybook was still sitting on the couch. Bernard picked it up, thinking that he’d check the table of contents to see if he knew any of the stories.

But there wasn’t a table of contents at all. How had he not noticed that before?

Instead, the book simply started with a story. But it wasn’t the same story he’d read earlier.

This story started with a young woman, standing in a living room of a tiny apartment. There was a little boy, pushing a toy car along the carpet.

With a jolt, he recognized himself, and his mother. He started reading. It didn’t take him long to realize that he was reading the story of his own Christmas when he’d been five.

He remembered, though he’d forgotten before, how sparse that Christmas had been. His mom had scraped and scrounged to get him a car, and a little set of blocks that might have come out of a happy meal. He wouldn’t have known, there were few luxuries like eating out at that time.

He remembered, as though it was happening then, how much he’d loved that toy car. How excited he’d been, having a whole day at home with his mom to make cookies and watch Christmas movies on their staticy old tv.

It seemed like such a mirror image of the day he’d just spent with Cassie.

Bernard looked at the image again. How had the story changed?

Just then, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was Uncle Richie.

“Hey, Uncle Richie,” Bernard said, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Richie said, “Did I catch you before Cassie went down?”

“No, sorry,” Bernard said, “but we got your package the day before yesterday. Thanks for the book, but I have a question about it.”

There was a moment of silence on the line. “Um yeah, me too,” Richie said finally. “I didn’t send a gift. I sent a card with some money. I don’t know what you kids need.”

“Well, then who sent this book?” Bernard asked, picking it up.

For the first time, he noticed an inscription on the front cover. It said, Sometimes, we all need to be kids again. SC.

Copyright © 2017 by Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Lola sat in her living room, in her armchair next to the Christmas tree. Her tv was turned to a picture of a fire crackling, with carols playing over it. She had her cordless phone sitting on the table next to her. She was expecting a call from her son. In fact, he should have called by now.

The fire was a silly thing, more of a reminder of her childhood in Pennsylvania than anything. The temperature in Texas that evening was anything but chilly. In fact, she had her living room window cracked open to let in any cool air that might decide to come by. She sat, listening to the Christmas music and reading on the tablet her daughter in law had sent as a gift.

From out in the street came the sound of singing. Lola sat down her tablet, listening.

It came clearer, what sounded like teenagers, singing a Christmas carol.

“Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin’. In the lane, snow is glistenin’.”

Enchanted, Lola turned the volume off on her tv. She glanced out the window and saw a collection of teens coming down the street. They were dressed in hoodies, with scarves and hats. Apparently, they’d been raised in the south and this warm night was a little too chilly for them. Or, maybe they just wanted to make believe that it was cold.

The group made their way up to Mr. Willis’s house, across the road. They went up onto the porch and knocked.

Lola was highly amused. She didn’t think kids went caroling anymore. Hoping that they’d come to her house as well, she turned to watch. It was so quaint, they even had hymn books.

Mr. Willis answered the door. The teenagers began singing a song.

“God rest, ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay.”

Mr. Willis started smiling. He tucked his thumbs into his belt, as the kids finished the song.

The young man standing in front closed his hymn book at the end of the song, and hit Mr. Willis with it hard, on the side of his head.

The older man fell to the ground. Before he could get up, one of the girls kicked him hard in his stomach. He grunted and tried to get to his feet. But they kept kicking him. Some began hitting him with their books.

Lola gasped, stepping back from the window. She could hear Mr. Willis screaming out in the street for a few minutes more. He was calling for help. But Lola was sure she was the only one with her window open.

Then, the screaming stopped, with a sickening crunch.

Lola heard footsteps coming across the street. She rushed to lock the front door, then headed to the window to shut it.

Someone was knocking on her door. Lola reached for her phone, still sitting next to her chair.

She’d let it sit too long, the battery was dead.

From the door, Lola heard a carol. “Oh come, all ye faithful. Joyful and triumphant.” The knocking went on and on.

Copyright © 2017 by Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Snow swirled through the air, circling Meryl and kissing her face as she walked down the sidewalk. It wasn’t cold enough for the snow to stick when it hit the sidewalk, even though it was Christmas Eve, but it was chilly enough for her to be wrapped up in a red scarf and hat.

Her hands, however, were bare. She carried a small stone in one hand, a simple piece of quartz.

As she walked through the street, she listened. Someone was playing Christmas music from a nearby store, it got louder and quieter as the door opened and closed. People were chatting happily all around her. Shoppers, grabbing some forgotten ingredient for Christmas dinner or a last-minute gift. Workers from the shops and restaurants, excited for the end of their shifts so that they could go home and enjoy the holiday. Everything appeared pleasant and peaceful.

Of course, that couldn’t be the real truth. Meryl listened carefully until she heard someone who sounded distressed.

“But you had them just yesterday,” a man said, inside the toy store. Meryl stopped, listening carefully.

“I’m sorry,” the clerk said, “but those dolls were very popular this year. We must have sold out.”

“But it’s all my daughter wants for Christmas,” the man said, “and her mom just, well she left, and-,”

Meryl stopped, standing just outside the door of the shop. She clutched her stone and waited.

“I’m sorry,” the clerk said, “but I-, oh, wait.”

There was the sound of rustling.

“There was this one under the display! It must have fallen. The box is a little dented, is that alright?”

“It’s fine,” the man said, sounding elated. “Thank you so much, I can’t tell you what this will mean to her.”

Meryl continued on.

A little while later, she saw a young woman, pushing a stroller. The child inside was dressed in a warm coat, but the woman had only a hoodie. She was shivering in the cold. Meryl noticed a shopping bag hanging from the stroller’s handle, spotting baby cereal and a loaf of bread through the clear plastic.

Again, she clutched the stone in her hand as she walked past.

A few moments later, she heard the young woman gasp. She glanced back to see her pick up a fifty-dollar bill from the ground.

Further down the road, she came upon a teenage girl with a small boy trailing after her, brother and sister from the look of them. “What if we don’t find her?” the boy asked, looking back at the girl.

“Don’t be stupid, we’ll find her,” the girl replied, but her brow was furrowed.

Meryl waited a moment until she heard a small mew coming from a trash bin near her. There was a kitten there, gnawing on a discarded hot dog. She waited a moment, holding her stone in her hand.

The smaller boy went closer and closer to the bins, then moved farther away. Meryl sighed and tried a little harder. The boy, however, seemed highly unmotivated to listen to a small voice inside his head.

Finally, Meryl crossed the street and scooped the orange kitten up from behind the bin. “Are you kids looking for this little guy?” she asked.

“Oh, yes!” the girl cried, running over to grab the kitten. Meryl handed the cat to her, and went on her way, thinking that magic could only do so much, even on Christmas Eve.

Copyright © 2017 by Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Episode One, Episode Two

Thursday, AC April 6

Sennett was laying upside down on her couch, feet propped up on the headrest and her head just brushing the floor. She was watching the news, trying to figure out how they could make station life seem so boring.

No one knew better than a police officer how many stories there were to tell on any given day. Where were the stories of muggings and people finding their life’s savings that had been hacked just in time? What was this crap about what tie Marshal Howard was wearing, or how many times he’d worn it before? Why did they spend so much time talking about one missing boy, when dozens more were missing, had been missing? Was it just because he was an adorable little boy that was easy to put in front of the cameras? And what the hell did Sennett care if some celebrity on Station Central was gaining weight?

She was watching the news, but she was also watching the clock. She still had three hours and eight minutes until April got out of school and she could go pick her up. Maybe they’d go to the shopping district and replace April’s sneakers. Maybe they’d go down to Level One, get some frozen yogurt and people watch. Literally, anything would be better than what she was doing then.

Which was nothing.

Liam’s bedroom door opened. He came out into the living room, still dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, scratching his head vigorously. He stopped when he saw her, sitting upside down. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Watching the news,” Sennett muttered.

“That ain’t healthy,” he replied, shuffling towards the kitchen.

“I don’t have anything else to do,” Sennett replied, “I don’t know what you do all day.”

“Mostly I run the vacuum and read,” he called, “I do some research on the Core, what little there is to do. I clean my guns, and I rest up. This quiet thing, it ain’t goin’ to last, Sen. You might want to enjoy being bored while you can.”

Her wrist pad started beeping. She tapped the screen, still upside down on the couch.

It was Schultz. “Montgomery,” she said, then hesitated, a look of surprise on her face. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Being bored out of my damn mind, Commissioner,” Sennett said, not bothering to sit up. She wasn’t on duty, after all.

“I’d hoped you’d get some rest. Which is why I don’t like having to ask you a favor,” Schultz said. “Can you come up to the barracks?”

“I will be there in fifteen minutes,” Sennett replied. She was on her feet an on the way to her bedroom before she even disconnected the call.

Sennett tried not to skip as she walked into the barracks. She couldn’t believe that she’d missed the smell of burned coffee and vomit that often permeated the place, but she had. In the waiting room, people sat on hard benches, waiting for any number of things. Two uniforms watched over them, a pretty young blond man at the desk and a wide, rough looking woman standing at ease next to it. They both waived at Sennett, then went back to their charges.

Past the entryway, where civilians only went if they’d been in trouble or were about to be, sat the desks of the detectives and ranking uniforms in neat lines. Sennett spotted Patty, recently promoted to street supervisor, and waived. Patty gave her a warm smile and a wave, then went back to her work. She had gray in her hair and lines around her eyes that hadn’t been as prominent before her partner died.

Joyce, recently promoted to detective, spotted Sennett. She was a solid woman, with her hair pulled back from her face severely.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on bereavement,” she said.

“Schultz called me in for something,” Sennett said, “I actually don’t have any idea what it’s about.”

“For someone who’s being called into the bosses office unexpectedly you look surprisingly happy,” Joyce replied.

Sennett chuckled and headed for the commissioner’s office.

It was considerably more crowded than she’d expected. Five people, two men, and three women stood around the room. They all wore black fatigues with their symbol, IHP in silver surrounded by one hundred stars, on the arms of their jackets.

Sennett did a quick check for rank. Both of the men wore a single line of white on their shoulders, indicating corporeal rank. One girl, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen and was bouncing a bit, wore no ranking at all. Another, with a long braid and a studious expression, had the double lines that marked her a sergeant. The last woman, with short cropped black hair, observing Sennett from next to Schultz’s desk, wore the four lines of a commander.

“Montgomery,” Schultz said, “thank you for coming. Please come in and shut the door behind you.”

Sennett pulled the door shut with a snap. She was suddenly less happy about the situation.

“This is Commander Evelyn Greenwood, originally from Station 68,” Schultz said, indicating the frowning woman next to her. “She’s from the IHP.”

“I thought IHP was on Earth,” Sennett said, reaching out to shake Evelyn’s offered hand.

“I was on a recruitment mission when the order went out, along with my second, Narumi Holms, Station 63,” Evelyn said, nodding to the woman with the long braid. “By the time we were in range of Earth no one was responding to my messages. I didn’t want to take green recruits into an unknown situation. So I decided to keep patrolling the stations. Turns out, that was a good decision.”

The younger girl was bouncing still, looking from Schultz to Sennett, then back again to Schultz.

Sighing, Schultz said, “This is my niece, Fernie.”

“It’s so amazing to meet you,” Fernie said, rushing forward to shake her hand. “As soon as I found out that we were going to be meeting you I just about died!”

“Thank you, why?” Sennett asked.

“Because you’re a hero, of course!” Fernie said.

“I’m not, really,” Sennett replied.

“Since we’re doing introductions,” Evelyn said, “This is Lee and Wesley, from Stations 7 and 6 respectively.”

She indicated the two men at the back of the room. Lee was a broad man, who seemed to take up more room than any other two people that Sennett could think of. His hair was cropped short, nearly shaved on the sides. He gave Sennett a respectful smile and nod which she returned.

Wesley was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He’d taken his uniform jacket off, revealing his arms. Somehow, Sennett was having trouble looking away from his arms, which were well defined. His dark hair curled and fell slightly around his ears. When he noticed her looking at him, he gave her a shy smile. She smiled back, then turned to Evelyn. “Nice to meet all of you,” she said, “What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking into a situation on another station. Fernie suggested that you might be of assistance since you’ve been instrumental in taking care of some strange situations here,” Evelyn said.

“That’s not how I would describe it, but sure,” Sennett replied.

“Have you heard about Station 16 going dark?” Schultz asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Sennett said, “I didn’t hear much, but I know it was in a few news feeds.”

“We got a garbled SOS from them before they went dark,” Evelyn said. “Fernie has a friend who lives there, Etta Simpson. She sent something out to her.”

She nodded to the younger girl. Fernie reached over to Schultz’s desk and tapped it.

The wall screen lit up with the face of a woman. Thick dark hair was flowing around her face, and a smudge of mascara was running from under her eye down to beside her strangely circular nose. She seemed to be in what looked like a dorm room, with messy looking bunk beds and a small table covered with bowls and coffee cups. The shades were drawn, and she hadn’t bothered with the light.

“Hey,” Etta said, whispering. “I know you’re off learning to be a superhero and all, but we might need some help here. Normally I’d go to Station security, but they’re not really around anymore. They’ve been replaced by these guys.”

They could see her open the window shade, then she held the camera up to the glass. There were soldiers, marching in battalions. They were armed with weapons that looked more lethal than crowd control. Black, with long muzzles and thick handles, they resembled the ancient two barrel shotgun.

“Pause that, please,” Sennett said. Fernie obliged.

With her new roommate being a gun runner, Sennett’s knowledge of weapons had increased dramatically. “That’s a Winchester Honorarium, second edition,” she said, “Based on those clips, they’re firing acid rounds. I thought the IHP banned the use of those on Stations.”

“They’re not banned on Earth, though. At least not all of Earth,” Schultz said. She came to Sennett’s side, inspecting the image. “I don’t see any insignia. But, I assume you agents have already checked for that.”

“Yes,” Evelyn said, “And we knew it was a Winchester.”

“We hadn’t identified the ammo, though,” Lee said, “That was pretty good.”

“Go ahead and play the rest of the message, please,” Sennett said.

Etta brought the screen back to her. “The mall’s been shut down, but no one’s explaining why. The weird thing is, there hasn’t been an outbreak. At least not one we know about. The lab’s open, we’re all still going to work every day. And if there had been an accident, even a little one, that wouldn’t be happening. You remember what happened when Qa broke that beaker, and it was only a sulfur mixture.”

“They shut the whole building down for three days,” Fernie said, pausing the video. “Actually, that was fun. They shut everything down, but still paid us.”

“This doesn’t sound like a normal station,” Sennett said.

“Station 16 is a disease research facility. It’s a company station, the only people who live there are people who work at the lab and their families,” Narumi explained, “Fernie was working security there with Etta before she signed up for IHP.”

“She was higher rank than me,” Fernie said. She started the video again.

“Listen, the soldiers aren’t the worst of it. There’s a woman on your home station, Sennett Montgomery. I’ve been hearing about some of the crazy shit that’s been going down there. Seems like the only reason that place is still in the sky is because of her.”

“What the hell kind of rumors have been running around?” Sennett muttered.

“Get her, get anyone you can think of, and come. Please, we’ve got people here who are scared. These soldiers are saying that they’re here to protect us, but they’re not saying what from. If it were just me, I wouldn’t ask you, but-,”

In the background, there was a knock. Etta looked up, and the video ended abruptly.

“The station went dark a few days after Fernie received this,” Evelyn said.

“And no one’s gotten any other word?” Sennett asked.

“Nothing,” Fernie said.

“We need to investigate the situation,” Evelyn said. “And, as Etta mentioned you specifically, Fernie thought it would be a good idea to ask you to come with us.”

She turned to Sennett, her eyes sharp. “Do you have any idea why Etta would have asked for you? I mean, besides you be a hero and all.”

“I’m not a hero,” Sennett said, “Lots of other officers and civilians did as much as me and more during the AI attack and the Core assassinations.”

“I agree,” Evelyn said, “That’s why I’m wondering if you know why she would ask for you.”

“Not a clue,” Sennett said.

“I think it’s a good idea for you to go,” Schultz said.

“You want me to go to a station that studies diseases and has gone dark?” Sennett asked. “What did I do to you, Commissioner?”

“It’s just a recon mission,” Evelyn said, “There are only five IHP agents not on Earth right now.”

“Our plan is to get into the station on Level One, and release drones to scan the rest of the levels,” Narumi said.

“How long would all of this take?” Sennett asked.

“The trip’s a few days, but we don’t intend to be there more than one or two,” Evelyn replied.

“So, I’d be off station for what, a week?” Sennett shook her head. “I have a kid, I’m not leaving her for that long.”

“April will be fine with Mason while you’re gone,” Schultz said. “If you’re worried, I’ll send some uniforms around from time to time to check up on her.”

“Commissioner,” Sennett said, “I really don’t think now is the right time for me to be leaving the station.”

Schultz sighed. “Evelyn, can you and your people meet us at the gun range? I think Detective Montgomery and I have a few things to discuss.”

“Alright,” Evelyn said. She headed for the door, her people forming a line behind her. Wesley lingered just for a moment, giving Sennett a short wave. Surprised, she returned it.

Schultz waited until the door was closed before speaking. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a request. This is an order.”

Sennett turned to face her. “And why the hell is it an order, Ma’am?” she asked.

“I would think that my reasons for wanting you to go on this mission are clear.”

“I know why you want me to go,” Sennett said, “Your niece is going and you don’t trust her team to bring her back alive. But what I don’t understand is why you think that would be more important to me than my daughter.”

“Because I don’t think that these people are who they say they are,” Schultz hissed. She glanced toward the glass door, making sure that the IHP agents were far enough away. “This woman says she was recruiting new people just as the rest of the IHP was called o Earth. It’s too coincidental.”

Schultz reached into her desk and pulled out a bright blue handgun with a silver handle. “Since I can’t really send you off station just because some scientist we’ve never heard of asked for you, the official reason for your trip will be to test these new pieces. It’s called an icer.” Sennett lifted the weapon. “What’s it do?”

“It traps the perp in a gel casing, freezing them in place safely,” Schultz said, “The very latest in crowd control. The only problem is that the gel is a little unstable.”

“Unstable, how?” Sennett asked.

“Unstable in the time it keeps someone frozen. Sometimes it’s thirty minutes, sometimes it’s, well, not as long.”

“So you want me to go to a dark station that’s got a bunch of illnesses in little jars, and arming me with a weapon that might be faulty?” Sennett asked.

“I know it’s bad. I don’t like any of this. I don’t know why this scientist that we’ve never heard of is asking for you. I don’t like that my niece is tied up in this. I’m sure that she’s not lying to me, but that just makes me wonder who’s involved in a conspiracy and who isn’t. Sennett, I’m asking you to go as a friend. Fernie’s father was my baby brother. I don’t want to lose her too.”

Sennett crossed her arms over her chest, thinking. “This could be Core related,” she said.

She turned to Schultz. “You’ll make sure April and Mason are okay?”

“I promise,” Schultz said. “I can’t imagine anyone on this station will let anything happen to them. You’re a hero.”

“I’m not,” Sennett said, “especially if heroes get stuck doing crap work like this.”

Virus is now available, including an extended ending never before published. Get it here now.

Copyright © 2017 by Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

It was Christmas Eve, and Roman couldn’t sleep. His four-year-old brain was buzzing with excitement for the morning. He wanted it to come as soon as possible, but he h

ad a problem. Even with his eyes shut as tight as they would go, he couldn’t seem to drift off.

Then, something happened that made it even harder to fall asleep. He heard something, a creaking, squeaking sound coming from the living room down the apartment hall.

Roman sat up in bed, wondering what the sound was. His older brother, Russell, was snoring in his room next door to Roman’s. It couldn’t be him.

Thinking that it might be his parents still up, he crawled from his bed. They’d told him that they were going to sleep just as soon as he did! If they weren’t in bed, Santa wouldn’t come. What were they doing?

The temperature was much colder outside in the hallway. He shivered in his pajamas, and continued toward the living room. He was fully prepared to tell of his parents in the most four-year-old manner possible.

When he reached the living room, though, he didn’t see his mother or father. Instead, standing in the light of the Christmas tree, was a tall man, dressed in a red, furred suit with white trim.

He was bone thin, his suit hanging from a skeletal frame. The suit itself was far from clean. It was covered in tears and burn marks and stained with something that had caused the fur to stiffen up and darken. Parts of the white trim were red as well.

There was a foul smell coming from him, sweet in a way but wrong. The man turned around when he heard Roman come into the room. He was holding a black trash bag. Something was squirming inside of it, making a faint whimpering sound.

“Ho, Ho, Ho!” the man said, grinning at Roman. “Merry Christmas, little boy! Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

His face was as thin as the rest of him. His eyes and cheekbones were protruding, his skin stretched over the bones like a sheet on a bed.

“You, you’re not Santa,” Roman said.

“Not Santa?” the man asked. His voice was high pitched, almost enough to hurt Roman’s ears. “What do you mean, I’m not Santa? Who else would I be?”

“Santa’s fat,” Roman said.

The man laughed again and reached into his trash bag. “But if I’m not Santa, why do I have a present for you?”

He pulled out a shoebox, old and wet. There was a red bow on top that looked like it was stained as well. “Here you go,” he said, holding it out for Roman.

The little boy took the box and pulled off the tattered lid. Inside was a black handgun, shining in the light of the tree.

“Merry Christmas!” the man said, grinning.

And without another word, he went to the open window and climbed out onto the fire escape.

“Wow,” Roman said, pulling the gun from the box. It was heavier than any of the other toys guns he’d owned.

From down the hall, he heard his brother’s bedroom door open. Russell stumbled out, scratching his head. “Hey, little man,” he said, “Who were you talking to?”

“Santa!” Roman said, excitedly. He held up the gun and pointed it at his brother. “Look what he brought me!”

He pulled the trigger.

Copyright © 2017 By Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Obviously, I love reading. In fact, Christmas books are one of the things that I look forward to most this time of year.

Christmas books take me back to being a kid. My grandmother would read them to me, and I would read them myself. Now that my kids are older, these books remind me of when they were little babies, curling up on my lap to hear a story. It’s a strange double memory, seeing back into my past twice.

Today, I wanted to share with you the books that my family reads for Christmas. I really don’t intend to give you a breakdown of these books because you’ve probably already read them.

Santa Clause and His Elves by Mauri Kunnas

This book is one that my grandma read to me when I was a kid. Because of this, I read it to my kids exactly the same way she read it to me.

 

 

 

 

 

The Polar Express, by Chris Van Allsburg

I do enjoy the movie, despite the uncanny valley issue with the characters. But there’s nothing like reading this beautifully illustrated book to your kids. Mine will still let me read it, even though they’re 13 now.

 

The Joy of a Peanuts Christmas, by Charles Schultz and distributed by Hallmark

This was literally a holiday book that Hallmark put out and I found at a second-hand store. It’s just a collection of strips from through the years.

 

 

 

Letters from Father Christmas, by J.R.R Tolkien

If you’ve never heard of this one, it’s a collection of letters that Tolkien wrote for his children. It’s quite touching.

 

 

 

The first few chapters of Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott.

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without presents,” muttered Jo. And it just gets better from there.

 

 

 

 

 

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, by Barbara Robinson

Did anyone get through elementary school without reading this book? Does anyone else start crying at the last line? “Hey! Unto you, a child is born!”

 

 

 

 

A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens

Nothing can be said about this book. It’s the perfect Christmas book, and I start reading it every Black Friday.

 

 

 

 

 

What Christmas or holiday book makes your season complete? Let us know in the comments below.

And don’t forget, the 12 Days of Short Stories starts tomorrow! I’ll be posting welve short holidays stories, one every day until Christmas Eve! They’re all origional, never posted anywhere else. I hope you enjoy them, as my Christmas gift to all of you.

I’m a big fan of tech. I’m pretty much never without my tablet, and I depend on it heavily throughout my day. Mostly because it reminds me of Penny’s book in Inspector Gadget. But also because it’s an incredibly useful tool that I use to make my busy life easier.

While I do have Instagram and Candy Crush on there, I use my tablet more for life management and writing than playing. Today, I’m going to give you an updated list of the apps that I use daily to keep everything in order. Some of these you’ve likely heard of before. In fact, you might have heard of them from me, because I’ve written a similar blog post before. But the apps I used have changed since the last time I wrote it. (Here’s a link to the post from May first, 2016.) So it felt like it was time for an update. Unless otherwise indicated, none of these apps cost money. I’m also not an affiliate at all and did not receive any money from writing this post.

Apps that I’m using for writing

Buffer

I’m still using Buffer, after over a year, and there’s a reason. Look, I understand three things about social media. 1. It’s important for a writer to have a social media presence to gain a fan base. 2. Social media and the rules that govern it change all the time. 3. I will never have the time or inclination to check and post on multiple social media platforms every day.

So, Buffer is still my best friend. I’m able to change when and how much I post anytime I need to. Buffer has a built-in tool that can tell when the people who follow me are most likely to be online so that I can post at the best time. It also allows me to schedule social media to the minute.

Evernote

I’m still using Evernote as well, even after breaking my first tablet and transitioning onto another one. I use this to keep all my outlines and Series Bibles handy wherever I am. I also keep my Control Journal on Evernote, which is easier than having it in a big binder. (The control journal isn’t mine, it belongs to the Fly Lady.)

Dropbox

I’m still using Dropbox to store my drafts in case I lose my computer. But I learned something new that it can do.

If you have a document on dropbox, you can send out a link to anybody so they can access it! So, for instance, if you run a challenge via email and want to include some nifty printables along with it, you can pop them in Dropbox and put a link in your email. That’s what I did with my Controlling Your Life email course, and it worked great.

Grammarly

I’m kind of assuming you’ve seen the ads for Grammarly, but I’ll talk about it anyway. I’ve been using it for every single blog post or short story I write. I would use it for my novels too, but it has a size limit. It basically goes through and checks all of my grammar to make sure I’m not sending my work out into the world with silly grammar mistakes.

Mail Chimp

I’ve been loving Mail Chimp, especially when I was doing my email challenge. It’s still, after using for several years now, the freaking easiest way to send emails.

Apps that I’m using for life management because managing your life is the first step to being successful in your writing.

Todoist

I actually stopped using the todoist app for a while. I was writing out my daily to-dos in my bullet journal. This was taking up a huge amount of room, obviously. It was also a huge pain in the ass transitioning things that I do every day.

Todoist lets me schedule repetitive tasks for my daily, weekly and monthly chores. This also helps because then I don’t have to remember them!

Stop, breath and think

This is my favorite meditation app, by far. It tracks how long I meditate, has a built-in list of guided meditations and gives me stickers for completing certain challenges. I start every day with the Welcoming The Day meditation.

White noise

During the summer, I had an air conditioner in my bedroom. Now that it’s gone, I’ve found that I can no longer sleep in silence. So, I’ve started using the app White Noise. It comes with several different nature sounds and uses little enough power that my tablet still charges while the app is on.

Telegram

I don’t hate Messenger, but I don’t love it either. Worse, it takes up a lot of the limited space on my tablet. So I’ve started using Telegram to communicate with my family and friends. This one is purely fun. I can send gifs to my kids and husband, share documents, and set up large group chats.

Google calendar

I assume I don’t need to tell you all about Google Calendar because there’s a good chance it’s open somewhere on your screen right now. It is on mine.

My husband and I have ours synced, so we both know what’s going on with each other. I can keep track of everything, color coded. And, this one is new, it integrates with Todoist, so my to-do list is right on the same screen!

Technology continues to make my life easier, and I hope it helps you as well. If I missed a super useful app that helps you, please let us know about it in the comments.

Episode One

Wednesday, AC April 5

With the care of a man holding a newborn, Godfrey Anders slid a pan of duck into his oven. It was set at a low heat, intended to allow the duck to simmer in its own juices for hours.

He hadn’t been able to get a real duck. No one had been in contact with Earth for a while now. But he hoped the simulated one would taste almost as good.

Godfrey stood up from the oven, brushing his curly, dark hair out of his eyes. He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble. He supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea to shave before his wife, Ki, came home.

Before he did that, though, he wanted to get the horchee chopped up. A hard root vegetable from Toth, it was real. It did, however, take awhile to simmer before it was soft enough to eat.

Just as he sat the first one down on his cutting board, the doorbell rang. A second later, it rang again. “Oh, what the hell?” he muttered, grabbing a towel to wipe his hands.

When he opened the door he found Mason Montgomery, carrying a canvas satchel and leaning on his doorbell. “There you are,” he said, “Why weren’t you at your stall?”

“I took a day off,” Godfrey said, tossing the hand towel over his shoulder. “It’s one of the things you can do when you run your own business.”

“You could have told someone,” Mason said, throwing his hands up. “I went the whole way to the food district.”

“Why?” Godfrey asked, “I told you last week you’d paid off your debt for freezing my plants. You don’t have to work for me anymore.”

“I know. I made something for the greenhouse,” Mason said. “I guess we can just head down now.”

“Um, no,” Godfrey said, leaning against his doorway. “I’m cooking.”

Mason gave him an incredulous look. “You took a day off, from your food stall, to cook?”

“I’m making a roast duck for Ki,” Godfrey said. “Which really isn’t any of your damn business.”

“That’s fine, I didn’t ask,” Mason said, shrugging. “I just want you to come down to the greenhouse. This is cool, you’ll like it.”

Godfrey sighed, checking his wrist pad for the time. He had a few hours at least until Ki got home. And the goose, at this point, only wanted to be left alone.

“Fine,” Godfrey said, “Let’s go.”

“So where’s April?” Godfrey asked.

“She’s at home with Sennett,” Mason said. He strode into the center of the greenhouse, then knelt to start digging through his bag.

“Huh. Did she take the day off too?”

Mason pulled a device from his bag that was about the size of his palm. It had eight metal legs, like a spider, and a single blue dot on the center portion.

“Kind of,” he said, looking up towards the ceiling. “Commissioner Schultz made her take a vacation.”

“Why, did something happen?”

Mason glanced at him, then back up at the ceiling. “I don’t think so, at least not yet. She just said Schultz thought she was burned out.”

“Does she seem burned out to you?” Godfrey asked.

“I don’t know,” Mason said, “I mean, she’s stressed out over the whole Core thing. And, I guess she’s not sleeping.”

Mason tossed the spider device in the air. It hit the ceiling, sinking it’s eight metal feet into the steel.

“That thing isn’t AI, is it?” Godfrey asked.

“No, don’t be dumb,” Mason said, “We can control it through our pads.”

“What do you mean, we? Did you have my wrist pad?”

Mason gave him a derisive look. “Come on. Do you really think that I can’t access your wrist pad remotely?”

“Stop doing shit like that!” Godfrey cried.

“How about you wait and see what this does before you complain?” Mason asked. He reached into his bag again and pulled out something Godfrey hadn’t seen since he’d left Earth.

A collapsible umbrella.

“Where did you get that?” Godfrey asked.

“Had it at the lab,” Mason said, “You wouldn’t believe how often it’s come in handy.” He opened it, then handed it to Godfrey. Then he started tapping things on his wrist pad.

The device on the ceiling extended a small tube from the blue dot. It bent horizontally, then started firing small blue balls in every direction. The balls burst open, releasing what looked like clouds. After a few moments, they started raining.

“Despite my better instincts,” Godfrey said as the rain started to patter on the top of the umbrella, “I am impressed.”

He looked up at the heavy clouds, marveling at how the soft rain landed on his plants. It even smelled a little like Earth rain. For a moment he was on his dad’s farm again, smelling the air after a thunderstorm had fallen on their crops.

“Haven’t seen rain in a long time,” he said, “I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

“Yeah, rain was pretty sweet,” Mason said. “It’s really the only thing I miss about Earth. Part of why I wanted to do this.”

“I didn’t know you lived on Earth,” Godfrey said.

“Yeah,” Mason said, “New York City, America. My birth mom lived there. I guess my dad was some guy who worked at Galitech and had a wife. When my birth mom got pregnant he wanted her as far away from him as possible. So he sent her here, sent money. Then she got sick and died.”

“I’m sorry,” Godfrey said.

“Can’t complain,” Mason replied, “I was too little to remember her. And my mom was really great to me. Sennett too.”

The device on the ceiling was making a loud humming noise, drawing their attention. It was still spinning, but it wasn’t shooting anything anymore.

“Oh, shit,” Mason said. He looked at his wrist pad and started hitting buttons frantically. “I think one got stuck.”

“Why is smoke coming from it?” Godfrey asked, looking up as dark smoke and sparks began emitting from the rain device.

Mason’s head snapped up. “That would be because it’s about to blow up,” he said. He grabbed Godfrey from the back of his shirt and pulled him out of the greenhouse into his food stall. He slammed the door shut behind them, just moments before several things hit it.

Godfrey opened the door again. Shrapnel, more than he’d really expected from such a little device, littered the ground. A small fire was burning on the ceiling.

Mason grabbed a hose from the wall and sprayed the fire, soaking himself in the process.

Godfrey took a few steps into his greenhouse. A green tomato was hanging from a vine, a metallic leg sticking out from its side. He plucked it from the vine, then turned back to Mason.

“Look, there’s no progress without some risks,” Mason said, holding up his hands.

“You will clean this up,” Godfrey said, “before I get here in the morning. Then you will come here every day and nurse my plants until they are well again. Am I understood, Mason?”

“I was trying to help,” Mason snapped.

“And you nearly killed us both instead,” Godfrey said, handing him the skewered tomato. “Funny how that works.”

Godfrey was still fuming on the ride home. Upon arriving at his house he checked on his duck. It was still pleasantly simmering. Soothed by the scent, he returned to cutting up horchee.

Once it was in the pan with some spices and a bit of harral oil from Khloe, he sat down at the kitchen table and opened the news feeds on his wrist pad. He started with the S86 feeds, then expanded his search to all of the stations.

There was no news from Earth. Only speculation, none of which made sense. One writer thought sunspots had killed all of the radio frequencies. One said that there must have been some horrible World War 4 and no one was in good enough shape to communicate.

One reporter, apparently more creative than smart, suggested that Earth had regressed into a prehistoric world where technology was a foreign concept.

The last thing anyone had heard from Earth, it seemed, was the video from the day the AI dogs arrived. Most people assumed that the message had been about the dogs. Only Godfrey and a handful of others thought it might be something different.

Only one article looked like it might have any useful information. It was about two stations, 88 and 16. Apparently, both had gone dark, stopping all communication with other stations. Station 88 Godfrey knew about. It was the station the AI dogs had come from. But 16 was news to him. He saved the article, meaning to talk to Sennett about it later.

He got up to stir the horchee, wondering if Ki would mind if he made a trip off station. No one seemed to know anything about what was going on on Earth. He was tired of waiting for news.

The horchee was nearly done. It was tender and filling the kitchen with it’s tangy, bitter scent. He glanced toward the wall. It was 6:15. Ki should have been home. Her shift was over at 5:30.

He slid the horchee onto a serving plate, then sat it on a warmer. Then he checked on the goose, pouring juices over it.

7:00 came, then 8:00. Despite Godfrey’s best efforts, the goose was getting dry. But that was the least of his worries. He messaged Ki for what felt like an excessive number of times. There was still no answer. He called the hospital, only to be told that Ki had clocked out at the end of her shift.

Finally, at a quarter after the hour, Ki came through the door. She looked tired, her feet dragging along the ground. Even so, there was a flush on her cheeks and she was smiling.

“There you are,” he said as she took off her shoes. “Where have you been?”

“What’s wrong? I told you yesterday that I was going to stop after work with Morgan and Cheryl for some drinks,” she said, laughing a little. She came into the kitchen and pecked his cheek. She certainly had been out for drinks by the smell of her.

“No, you didn’t tell me,” he said, “because if you had told me, I’d have told you that it wasn’t okay. I took today off to make a nice dinner for you.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ki said. Her good humor seemed to be fading quickly. She headed for the sofa. “You never said anything about making dinner or taking the day off.”

“That’s because it was supposed to be a surprise,” Godfrey said, “Ki, I’ve been sending you messages. Why didn’t you respond to any of them if you were out having drinks?”

“Because I turned my pad off,” Ki replied. She threw her hands up. “When did you become one of those husbands who has to know where I am every second, huh?”

“I don’t know. When did you become one of those wives who makes plans without telling her husband?” he snapped.

“This is ridiculous,” Ki said, “I work damn hard all day. And if my friends ask me to go drinking, I should be able to say yes without checking in with you.”

He stopped a moment. “But I thought you said you did check in with me,” he said. “You said I knew about this already, so that would be checking in with me.”

“Can you not do this right now?” Ki asked. “It was a long day and I was in a good mood until I walked through that door.”

“Well you haven’t been happy at home for awhile now,” Godfrey said, crossing his arms.

“Oh, don’t play the victim,” Ki snapped. “What do you expect me to do, when I come home to you wrist deep in all this conspiracy shit, spouting crazy theories about Earth. Do you expect me to be happy about that?”

“It’s better than any of the theories that anyone else is offering since no one else is offering any! My dad hasn’t responded to any communications-,”

“I know you’re worried about your dad,” Ki said, “But you’re not a detective. You’re not a council member. You’re a cook, that’s it. So let the authorities handle it.”

“Sennett said the station police are in such short number-,”

“Oh, does Sennett agree with you?” Ki asked, “I’m sorry. If I’d realized that Saint Sennett agreed with you I wouldn’t have argued.”

She turned and stormed toward the bedroom. “Sennett’s never wrong, she’s perfect.”

“Ki, I didn’t say that,” Godfrey said, following after her. She slammed the door shut on his face and locked it. A few minutes later, he heard the water in the shower turn on.

With nothing else to do, Godfrey went back to the kitchen to cut up the goose before it was completely ruined.

Ki didn’t come out of their bedroom the rest of the evening. Godfrey didn’t try to persuade her, either. He sat on the couch, surfing through different entertainment feeds and nibbling on the goose. Eventually his mind went to the article he’d read about the stations going dark. He turned off the wall screen and called Sennett.

He wasn’t at all surprised when she answered right away, not a trace of sleep on her face.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I might have found something in the news today,” he said, “I also wanted to make sure you were alright. Mason said that your commander made you take a vacation.”

“Mason needs to stop telling people my business,” Sennett replied, looking more tired than angry. “But yeah, Schultz asked me to take some time off. Officially, it’s bereavement for Mom.”

“And unofficially?” he asked.

“She found out about the lead gun Liam gave me,” Sennett said, “Schultz thinks I need to get my head on right before I start thinking I’m above the law.”

“Cop with connections, the worst thing there is,” Godfrey said, grinning at her.

“Yeah, whatever. So, what did you find on the news?”

“A station went dark, Station 16,” he said, “No one knows why, and no one’s been sent to investigate.”

“Of course not,” Sennett said, “That’s the IHP’s job, and they’re all on Earth doing who the hell knows what. And none of the other stations are going to do it. Take it upon themselves to look after another station, maybe give aid? Hell no.”

“Too much to look after on their own stations, I expect,” Godfrey muttered, “Same old excuse.”

“Hey, we aren’t using it as an excuse,” Sennett said, “We’ve barely got enough officers to keep the peace here as it is. What are you doing up at this hour, anyway?”

“Ki and I had another fight,” he said, “She was out drinking with some of her friends after work. She thinks she told me, I think she didn’t. Anyway, I made this big dinner for her and it mostly went to waste.”

Sennett shook her head. “If you and Ki are fighting, calling me at this hour isn’t going to help.”

“I know,” he said, “It just makes me feel better, talking to you.”

“I don’t mind talking,” Sennett said, “but if you want to save your marriage, the person you should be talking to is Ki.”

“Come on,” Godfrey said, “If I could talk to Ki, do you think I’d be talking to you right now?”

Virus is now available, with a bonus extended ending! Download it now.

Copyright © 2017 by Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

For anyone who doesn’t know, my family is a blended family. My husband and I didn’t get married until our daughters were ten. We started dating when they were three, and we met on the day my stepdaughter was born. (He was rushing out of the apartment building to go to the hospital, while I was walking in with my three-month-old in my arms. God was watching over us on that day.)

The holidays can kind of blow for kids in blended families because the holidays tend to lead to arguments about who’s going to spend time where and when.

My husband and I have been going through this for ten years now. And we’ve learned a lot about making the holidays run smoothly for our blended family.

So you know where we’re coming from, both of our daughters live with us most of the time. My daughter no longer has a relationship with her father. My stepdaughter visits her mom on the weekends, and every other week in the summer.

I’m not a therapist or a family counselor. I’m not saying that what I’m suggesting is going to work for every family. But this is what we’ve done that’s worked for us, for some pretty rocky times.

Know your own mind first

Before you start talking to others about what you want to do during the holidays, you need to understand your own mind and your own priorities. You need to know now, before the talking starts, what you really want to do with your family.

Something that is very important to me is opening crackers with my kids on Christmas Eve. I need both kids at home for that. I also insist that I get these Christmas bears from Kay Jewelers every year. (The money from the sales of these bears go to St. Judes. It’s not Christmas unless I get these damn things, and my kids will get them from me every year until I die.) I also insist that we watch the first Simpson’s Episode, Merry Christmas Charlie Brown, and Muppets Christmas Carol. These things are nonnegotiable for me.

For my husband, having Santa be a part of Christmas was big. I, until we got together, hadn’t intended on introducing my daughter to Santa. I had my reasons. But for the husband, Santa was an essential part of Christmas that trumped my reasons to leave him out. Checking out the Nordic Tracker website on Christmas Eve is also important to him, as is baking Christmas cookies.

When we start making plans for the holidays, we know that these are the events that are important to us. These are the things that we are not ready to compromise over. And it’s good to know that up front.

Consult with your child and in-house family

When it was just me and my older daughter, I had a very ‘us against the world’ mentality. When the husband moved in with my younger daughter, and we decided that this was going to be a long-term thing, then an in it for the long haul thing, my mentality didn’t change. It just now included two more people.

I care about my kids and husband’s feelings over everyone else. I don’t care if I upset my mom because my husband can’t handle visiting for Christmas. I don’t care if we hurt my father in law’s feelings because my daughter isn’t ready to hug him yet. I don’t care if we piss off the other family members because my kids have had too many events and need a day at home. (They’re introverts, like me.)

So before we make plans outside of the house, we talk to each other about what we want to get out of the holidays. While we don’t let the kids call all the shots, and we’d never encourage our kids to badmouth the other parent, we give them a chance to be heard.

Talk openly and kindly with the rest of your child’s family

We’re on very good terms with my younger daughter’s mom. We work together because we’ve always made a point, to be honest with each other, and compromise. That’s where knowing what you want first comes in handy.

But we can’t have these discussions if we’re still hung up on past relationships.

And I get that it’s hard. When my daughter’s father was in her life, it was harder. (I’m going to bitch for a minute, sorry.) He barely made an effort to see her the rest of the year. He was physically and emotionally abusive when we were together. So, it was hard to talk calmly to him and make compromises over Christmas.

But I did it. I might have enlisted his mom to help a couple times, but I did it. (He’d at the time not shown any signs of abusing her, for the record.) And I’ll tell you why I did it. It’s not my daughter’s fault that her dad was a bad boyfriend to me, and she wanted to spend some Christmas time with her daddy. Sometimes being part of a blended family means looking at someone who cheated on you, and asking them what time on Christmas day they want to come pick up the baby. You’ve got to be a big person to do that, but I did it. And I’m sometimes a petty, petty soul.

Think outside the calendar

When my husband and I got together, he taught me a valuable lesson about the holidays. I want to share this lesson with you today.

Holidays can be whatever day we want them to be.

For instance, every year for the past ten, my family has gone out for breakfast on Christmas Eve. For the first few years, it was just the four of us. Then we invited my ex’s mother. Then we invited my mother in law.

This year I have to work Christmas Eve morning. So we’re doing our breakfast on the 23^rd. I’m dealing kind of.

If you need to celebrate on a different day, do it. No one’s going to crash open your door on boxing day if you’re opening gifts, I promise. Your candy canes don’t expire (Ever.) Your Christmas movies will be just as good.

Remember, you’re doing this for your child

The holidays need to be good for you. But for the most part, they’re about your kids. And that’s what you need to remember. Like I said earlier, my daughter doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of a screaming match. My kids don’t need to hear about it when they get a gift from the other parent that we don’t approve of. (Though it can live at their house.) All of the pain, the anger, the hurt feelings of past love lost has absolutely no place in this situation. Any parents your kids have that don’t live with you are still their parents. And you have something in common with them; you love your kids more than anyone else ever possibly could.

All of this can be very hard if the other party isn’t acting like an adult. If you’re running into trouble, call in a family mediator or get a therapist involved. I’ve had to do that in the past, and it helped.

No matter what, do what you can to make your kids holidays good. You don’t want them carrying hurt feelings and guilt with them. You want them to love and be loved by everyone in their family, whether you love everyone involved or not.

(Disclaimer! This post is intended for blended families in which no abuse is happening. If you feel that your child is in danger when visiting their other parent then please get the authorities involved.)

Well, we made it to December, guys. 2017 is almost over, Nano is done for another year, and it’s time to celebrate the winter holidays with our families.

Because it is, after all, December, I don’t have a lot planned for this month. I’m pretty much hanging out with my kids and working my way through the FlyLady’s 31 Baby Steps. My house is slowly starting to look like a grown up’s house. And I found my house keys!

Anyway, here’s what I have planned for this month.

Starting on December 12^th, I’ll be posting 12 days of short holiday stories. Some of my scifan writing buddy’s will be doing so as well. Keep an eye on the PBW Facebook page, where I’ll post links to as many of their stories as I can.

Oh, and I have some rather biggish news.

Starting Chains, Book Two of Woven is currently in production by Solstice Publishing! Here, for the first time, is the cover!

There’s no release day yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as I have one.

In the meantime, I’m working on the Sandwashed rewrites, to the extent that I can work this month. My focus should be on my family right now, and that’s right where it is.

I’d love to see what everyone’s celebrating and how! Please post in the comments below how you and your family are enjoying the holidays this year. And let me know as well if you won Nano or not.