Author: Nicole Luttrell

I'm a speculative fiction writer. That means I write about dragons, ghosts and spaceships. Sometimes I write about the ghosts of dragons on spaceships.

Missing Stitches, Chapter One

Prologue

Since, the moment that these creeping things started to crawl upon their earth, I have hated them. Slow, stupid, bumbling things. Always at war with each other, always hating their own kind for the shallowest of reasons. Even the ones directly touched by their Creator are gray, drab things.

My own children would have shined, would have dominated the universe.

But, as they’re already bent on self-destruction, I’ll make use of them.

Possessing these creatures turned out to be a far simpler task than I ever anticipated, which opened my mind to all sorts of new possibilities. If I can possess one, perhaps I can gift one, the way their Creator does.

I’ve watched this one for a while. The third brother, not gifted like the two that came before him. His pride has been hurt, and he’s angry. He’s angry that his brother died, angry that his country was invaded. There are more selfish angers. And, of course, there is fear. I can always rely on fear. And so, when I began to whisper to him, he was ready to listen.

“If Samuel had no male heir, you should have been the one to inherit. Instead, he snubbed you and chose his daughter. What right does Samuel have to pass you up? It’s only because she is a mage. She and her common born, Montelarian husband, are more worthy in Samuel’s eyes than you. And now, they’re going to outrank you. That filth, the brother of the man who killed Issac, will be your king. You’ll be expected to bow to him, and his daughters.”

“This is the way of things,” I told him, “in a world run by mages.”

He’s been good enough to remove himself from his family. He’s gone to his country estate on his own lands. This is where I want him, sitting by the fire, sipping brandy, and going over financial records for his lands. Brooding, telling himself what a good landlord he is.

I slipped inside of him. It caused him some pain, I suppose, enough that he dropped his glass and cried out.

“Hush,” I whispered, “you’ll be glad I’m here.”

“What?” he cried.

“I’m going to help you. All of your life you’ve been neglected. Your brothers have always been favored because they were mages.”

“What’s happening?” he screamed.

“I’m helping you,” I said. “They were gifted, not because they’re better, or more worthy than you, but because the one you call your Creator is cruel. Picking and choosing people to bless at random, setting them above His other creations. You’re going to help me fix all of that. And in return, you’ll have power above all, more than you could possibly imagine.”

“Power,” he whispered. He was calm, then. He rose to his feet and nodded. Like a good little puppet.

“Yes,” I answered him. “We must start by killing your brother, and his daughter.”

Part One

Chapter One

Lenore Mestonie stood at the prow of her Uncle Lewis’s ship, the SOS Albatross. It was the flagship of her country, made of dark stained wood with billowing blue sails. It was a fantastic ship, the pride of her uncle. But she wasn’t interested in it.

She was looking for the silver gate, the Great Gate. The gate that led to her city, Septa. She felt as though she was starving, so desperate was she for the sight of it.

In her arms was her firstborn daughter, Eleanor. They shared the same blue eyes and cream-colored skin. But while Lenore had the dark curly hair that was a recognizable Mestonie trait, Eleanor had the light blonde hair of her father.

“Keep looking, little princess,” Lenore said, pointing toward the horizon. “We’ll be home soon. Not soon enough, but soon.”

A chorus of yipping alerted her to the arrival of her hound, Shepard, and her puppies. The baby dogs had inherited much from their wolf father and bore no resemblance to their mother’s brown fur and floppy ears. Instead, their gray coat was darker but not by much. Their ears would likely perk up over time, but for now, they flopped down comically as they bounced around in play with each other.

Shepard came to her master’s side and leaned against her. “Oh, are the babies tiring you out?” Lenore asked, scratching her ear.

“They are certainly tiring me out,” said her husband, Victor, as he joined her. “Worse than our two, these dogs.” He was holding Eleanor’s twin sister, Loralie, upside down to make her giggle. She looked even smaller than she was when her father held her. He was a large man, taller than any other on the ship. He’d allowed his blond hair to grow while they’d visited Montelair, and even now it flopped over his face. Loralie more closely resembled Lenore, with the same curly hair and button nose.

On Victor’s shoulder was a brown rat they called Korzhik. He had recently suffered a bath from Ramona, the family nurse. He looked much fluffier but seemed obsessed with washing the scent of soap out of his fur.

“You have been standing here all morning,” Victor chuckled. “You know you can’t get us there any faster by staring.”

“I know,” Lenore replied, “I’m just eager to be home.” She set a hand on her belly. She hadn’t yet started showing, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. “I can’t wait to tell everyone that we’re expecting another baby.”

Victor grinned. He pulled her and Eleanor close with one arm and kissed her. “And we won’t be on the run, with this pregnancy. We have peace with Montelair, and we will be home. I won’t have to worry every second that you’re in danger, for once.” He glanced around the deck, and added, “I do notice, however, that Anthony seems to have abandoned you.”

“I sent him below deck to pack,” Lenore replied. “I can’t imagine I need to be guarded while aboard the ship.”

A flash of silver caught her attention in the distance. “There it is,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. In the crow’s nest, a sailor was shouting the news. Soon Captain Lewis and his daughter, Lady Harper, were on the deck.

Lewis, Lenore’s uncle on her mother’s side, was a barrel-chested man who looked more like an old sea captain than a nobleman. His beard was trimmed but longer than Septan fashion. He wore cotton to keep him warm at sea. His face showed the wear of years in the ocean winds. His daughter, Harper, was taller than him by a hand, with a messy bun and a thick wool coat over her shoulders. She wore breeches, unlike any of the other women aboard. She seemed to be in the process of scolding her father.

“No, I don’t think it was warranted at all,” she said. “That woman devoted her life to The Creator, and you bloody well made her cry.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if she’d listened when I asked her to stop fussing over me,” Lewis said. “Daughter Coriander looked over me, and she didn’t fuss.”

“That’s Elder Sister Coriander now. I’m sure she’s going to have something to say to you when she finds out about your behavior. In fact, I imagine she’s going to kick your bum up beside your ears.”

“I am your papa!” Lewis said, “And you’ll not be telling the Elder anything. Unless you want your mama to hear about your pants wearing ways.”

“Uncle,” Lenore said, “we’re nearly home. Are you excited?”

“Not particularly,” Lewis said. “I’ve come home to the Great Gate hundreds of times, Niece. Mostly what I do when I get there is find a new reason to get back on my ship.”

“He’s not allowed fatty meat anymore,” Harper said. “He’s replacing it with being a prat at everyone.”

Lenore stifled a laugh. “I’m going to go check on Tabitha and Lucy,” she said. Leaving Eleanor with Harper, she headed below deck.

Her room on the ship was small, but space on board was always at a premium. The bed was made already, with a thick blue comforter and white satin pillows. Tabitha and Lucy were packing Victor and Lenore’s belongings from the built-in drawers into a trunk.

Tabitha quick eyes darted over to Lenore when she entered the room, not bothering to bow. Years of friendship had put an end to such things. Her wife, Lucy, was a good head taller than her, with a sharp nose. She as well didn’t bow but gave Lenore a quick nod.

Sitting with them was the Montelarian Princess, Victor’s niece, Anna. Several weeks of good meals and good care had been enough to put some weight on the child. It hadn’t yet taken away the haunted look in her eyes. After the childhood the girl had, Lenore wasn’t sure it would ever go away.

From the open doorway, leading into the next room, Lenore could see Anthony, her bodyguard. His long, curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail, leaving his scarred neck exposed. He was going over his bags and gave her a brief nod when he saw her.

“I didn’t think we had that much to pack,” Lenore said. “Didn’t most of our things burn up in the explosion?”

“We’ve only just started,” Tabitha said.

“I’m packed,” Anna said.

“Good,” Lenore said. “Thank you, Anna.”

Ramona, the royal nurse, came bustling in just then. She was a portly woman, dressed plainly in a cotton gown and simple shoes. “Where are the babies?” she asked.

“On deck with Victor,” Lenore said.

Ramona threw her hands up. “I’ve got to get them dressed!” she cried. “Does no one think to tell me these things?”

She hurried out of the room again.

“We’re about to go through the Great Gate,” Lenore said. “Anna, would you like to come see?”

“Are we?” Lucy asked, getting to her feet. “Great, I can’t wait to get off this ship.”

“Oh no, you’re staying here,” Lenore said, “Anna’s already packed.”

Lenore took Anna’s hand and led her upstairs, leaving Tabitha and Lucy to mutter over the packing.

Back on deck, Ramona was fussing over the cotton dresses the girls were wearing. “I can’t believe this is how we’re presenting them to their grandparents,” she said. “Lenore, you and your brothers never wore cotton.”

“We were in a war in Montelair,” Lenore said. “I think Mama and Papa will understand.”

“Well, maybe the king will,” Victor said, “Her Grace might not be as understanding when she sees her granddaughters in common cotton.”

Anna looked startled. “Is cotton not all right? What about wool?” She was dressed in a dark red wool gown, with silver buttons down the front. Her boots were Montelarian leather with fur lining. She wore a rabbit furred hat now that they were out on the deck.

“You look perfect, Dear,” Lenore said, putting a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. “You’re a princess. Anything you do is noble.”

Monroe, the chief of Septa’s ambassadors, joined them on deck. He looked flustered, which turned to irritation when he caught sight of Anna. “Princess,” Monroe said. “Your brother and uncle tasked me with looking after you. How am I to do that if you don’t stay where you tell me you’re going to be?”

Anna put her hands behind her back. “But I was with Mistress Tabitha,” she said.

“Yes, but I didn’t know that, did I,” Monroe stated. He sighed and looked up at Lenore. “How will you ever look after three of these?”

Victor, who was wiping dirt from Eleanor’s nose, said, “We employ a nursemaid. We also live in a palace full of servants, with my in-laws. I am sure we will manage as many babies as Lenore and I can have.”

As they pulled into Septan waters, the naval fleet came into view. Uncle Lewis, as commander of the navy, moved to the prow of the ship to greet them. Lenore stood beside him after setting Eleanor on her hip.

Lewis gave her a proud smile. “Look at you. The first female heir to the throne, coming home to the city that loves her.”

“I don’t know if my city loves me,” Lenore said, “but I sure love her.”

“I have missed Septa as well,” Victor said, pulling her close.

“Really? You didn’t want to stay in Montelair?” Lenore asked.

“No,” Victor replied, “It was good to visit my motherland, but this is my home.”

The ship pulled into the dock. Sailors hurried to set up a plank for them to disembark. Lenore’s father, King Samuel Mestonie, waited for them. He was a tall man, with no more than a dusting of gray in his dark hair. He was dressed plainly, in black breeches and a blue jacket with embroidery at the hems. But for the silver crown on his head, he might have been any Septan man.

Lenore wanted desperately to run to her father and throw her arms around his shoulders. Since the last time she’d seen him, she’d fought in a war, commanded a military hospital and nearly been blown to pieces several times. She wanted to be a child again, with her father there to watch after her.

Too much time had passed since she was a little girl though. Too many things had been said, and not said between them, for her to run to him like that again.

Instead, she walked to the end of the plank and bowed to him.

“What’s this?” Samuel asked, “Bug, I haven’t seen you in months! Come here.” He reached out for her and pulled her into a tight hug. “I was starting to get worried I wasn’t ever going to see you again,” he whispered.

“I’m fine,” Lenore said, a little stiffer than she meant to. “I’ve missed you too, Papa.”

Eleanor, caught between the two of them, started fussing. This caught Samuel’s attention. “I have missed you as well, my tiny darling,” he said, taking her.

Victor came to the end of the plank with Loralie. “There’s little Lori,” Samuel said, reaching out for her. “Victor, you look well, son. Come, let’s get home so that we can catch up.”

They boarded the waiting gondola. Lord James, the founder of the Dead Eye archers, stood next to the poler. His broad shoulders fit strangely over an otherwise narrow frame. He gave Lenore and Victor a nod, but then returned to scanning the crowd with wary eyes.

It was common practice for commoners to collect to see members of the royal family return home. Lenore had expected it.

What she hadn’t expected was for the people to be angry to see her.

All along the boardwalks, people jostled to see the gondolas and shouted insults. Some people waved greetings, but this seemed to infuriate the others. Several fights broke out as Lenore watched.

“What is this?” Lenore asked.

“There’s been a bit of trouble,” Samuel said. “We’ll talk at the palace.”

“I thought you said things had calmed down,” Victor said. Someone threw something at the gondola. Victor clenched his fist, bringing up a magical shield. A rotten egg hit it, breaking and falling into the canal waters.

“This is calmer,” Samuel said, grimacing.

Their gondola pulled up to the front of the palace. Anthony stepped onto the dock to assist Lenore. Just then, a young man ran from the crowd toward him. His hair was a mess, and his clothes were stained and rumpled as though he’d been wearing them for days. A guard grabbed his arm, but Anthony yelled, “Let him go, I know him.”

The boy stumbled toward him. Lenore had hopped from the gondola herself. “Anthony, who is this?” she asked.

“Princess, this is Heath. He is my son’s lover,” Anthony said.

“I tried to get a letter to you,” Heath sobbed, “but I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Anthony, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what, Boy?” Anthony asked. “Stand up straight and stop babbling in front of the nobility. What’s going on?”

“It’s Adam,” Heath sobbed. “The Underground Path got him!” He broke into sobs and fell to his knees in front of them. “They tore out his guts in the middle of the square!”

Copyright, Nicole C. Luttrell. All rights reserved.

Click here to see all the places Missing Stitches will be available on Friday.

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My 2025 Summer Reading List

It’s officially Summer. My life is starting to settle into a new normal, and I’m feeling pretty good.

This post might even be on time for a change.

While others are excited about Summer blockbusters or trips to the beach, I have a different view of what my months of warmth will look like. They include long puppy walks, trips to the park and the pool, and lots of reading.

As luck would have it, four of my favorite authors either have new books out or are releasing new books. And, I went on a bit of a buying spree a few months ago. So I’ve got a stack of new books awaiting me.

Shoutout to Thriftbooks.

Here’s what I’ll be reading this Summer. As always, some of these are re-reads. Some are new, and some are old. Some have been on my list before, but I didn’t get to them so I’m trying again. Some are for horror fans, some for writers, and some for witches. Whoever you are, I hope you find something in here to spark your interest.

Never Flinch by Stephen King

Anyone who follows me on Instagram should know this was coming. Hell, anyone who knows me should know this was coming.

But come on. A book about Holly and Detective Izzy solving cryptic murders and protecting an egotistical feminist icon? Yes, please.

The Bewitching by Sylvia Moreno-Garcia

The latest Moreno-Garcia book is always one of my Summer highlights. And, I mean, anything about witches is going to catch my attention.

I’m vain.

This book is about secrets and witchcraft that reach from Mexico to Massachusetts. And I love Mexican witchcraft almost as much as I love Salem witchcraft. And after reading Silver Nitrate, I know Moreno-Garcia will more than do the magic justice.

It comes out on July 15th. I am counting the days.

Dead Husband’s Cookbook by Danielle Valentine

Coming out in August, Valentine’s latest book is about a celebrity chef who might or might not have killed her husband and indulged in cannibalism. But having read all of her other works, I’m assuming it’s going to be much deeper than that.

I cannot wait to find out.

The House of Quiet by Kiersten White

This one comes out on September 9th. Which is technically still Summer, even though I’ll have already decked out my house in pumpkins by this time. And honestly, it seems like the best sort of book for this liminal time between Summer and Fall.

It’s about a woman who infiltrates a house that claims to be for children undergoing ‘the procedure’. But it turns out to be a place for people with strange powers. Honestly, it sounds like a cross between X-Men and Witchcraft for Wayward Girls and I am here for it.

Mexican Gothic by Sylvia Moreno-Garcia

I’ve been meaning to re-read this one since I originally listened to it as an audiobook. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just a different experience. And I’m already more than halfway through. I love this book and I’ve talked about it at length. Suffice to say that if you’ve never read a book by this author, start here. You’ll never look back.

Apostate’s Guide to Witchcraft by Moss Matthey

I’m already about halfway through this one as well. But it’s helping me work through some lingering damage from my childhood in a high-control religion. If you’ve suffered something similar, even if you’re not a witch, consider giving this one a read.

Sisters in Hate by Seyward Darby

I’ve been meaning to read this for ages. But I couldn’t find a copy anywhere. So I went ahead and bought one. It’s about white women and the poisonous work we’ve done for white nationalism. I don’t expect it to be a comfortable read.

The Witching Year by Diana Helmuth

Another re-read. But this time I have my own copy, so I can go to town with the highlighter. If witchcraft has been calling to you, read this book.

City Witchery by Lisa Marie Basile

Again, I have read this one before. But there’s so much good content in here that it certainly bears a re-read.

While you might associate witchcraft with something best practiced in forests or by the sea, not all of us live in those environments. Some of us can’t (A house in the woods? In this economy?) Some of us don’t want to. And if you’re in either of those camps, this book will help you feel more spiritual while walking your city streets.

Long Quiet Highway by Natalie Goldberg

I can’t get enough of Goldberg’s writing. Whenever I’m feeling uninspired, I turn to her. And a memoir about America, when I’m feeling this level of concern for our country’s future, is exactly what I need. Don’t worry, there will be a review of this one as soon as I finish it.

Let the Whole Thundering World Come Home by Natalie Goldberg

One of the many things I love about Goldberg’s writing is that each book tells the story of a different chapter of her life. This one is about her and her partner suffering from life-threatening cancer. With the health issues the Darling Husband has been facing, this one’s likely to leave me in tears.

The Magical Writing Grimoire by Lisa Marie Basile

Are we sensing a theme yet? I want to dive deeper into my writing, cutting to the bone and writing about things that truly, deeply matter to me. I did that in Quiet Apocalypse, which is about a haunted apartment building but is also about my deep-seated fear of dying alone. To this date, that is my favorite book I’ve written. I want to reach that height again.

Lucy Undying by Kiersten White

I am rereading this, and I am doing it soon. But it was such a fantastic story. It was the lesbian retelling of Dracula that we all need right now.

Writing on Empty by Natalie Goldberg

As I mentioned, each one of Goldberg’s books is about a chapter in her life. This one is about how she felt isolated during the Covid pandemic, and how it seemed to deprive her of her writing. Which is, let me assure you, its own special kind of hell. I need to know how my mentor dealt with that.

Velvet Was The Night by Sylvia Moreno-Garcia

Why am I re-reading this one? Because I found it at Dollar General of all places and had to rescue a copy. I also straight-up bullied a friend of mine until she bought one as well.

Also, the story is just great. A woman so bored with her life that she steals silly things from her neighbors accidentally finds herself involved in a massive political espionage plot. How is that not the perfect Summer read?

Broke Millennial by Erin Lowry

Finally, Broke Millennial is a book I feel like I need to read. As a writer, I’m probably never going to be overburdened with cash. So I need to manage what little of it I have responsibly if I want to keep eating, having a roof over my head, and occasionally indulging in a glass of damn good wine. And while I have read this one before, it was years ago. I need a refresher.

If you can believe it, that’s not everything on my massive TBR pile. But they’re all the books I think I’ll reasonably have time to read before September 22nd.

So now it’s your turn. What’s on your Summer reading list? Let us know in the comments. And if you want to follow along with my reading journey, you can do so on Goodreads.

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Missing Stitches is going wide on June 27th! Check out all the places it will be available here.

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My thoughts on Nebula Con 2025

Last week I attended the 2025 Nebula conference virtually. And for something that only lasted two days, I am sure still recovering from it.

As always, I learned a lot. And while I was a little disappointed that there was only a day and a half of panels for online participants, it was still a worthwhile experience. And, for the first time, I moderated a panel!

Some of my recovery time might have been due to the social anxiety attack I had over that, but it was still fun.

Today I want to share with you some of the best lessons I learned this year. I never walk away from Nebula Con without learning something that uplifts me and helps me be a better writer. Hopefully, some of these lessons will help you as well.

Don’t take anything too seriously

Writing is a serious business that is populated by unserious people. Yes, working writers need to deal with dull and business-type things like marketing sales and pricing. Yes, to be a successful writer you have to treat the business side of things like a business. Like you have a product that you’re selling.

But you’re also making up stories about dragons, ghosts and spaceships. You’re still playing make-believe and putting it on paper. It should still be fun.

This is something that’s never forgotten at Nebula Con. If you’ve ever attended, then you know the running joke that we are, in fact, on a spaceship that we’re sharing with several fantastical creatures. For instance, space wombats.

It is a wonderful reminder that writing is supposed to be a little bit fun. Most of us started writing because we were voracious readers. Reading was the most fun thing we could think of doing. I spent a good part of my childhood, some might say too much, between the pages of one book or another. I was having fun. And I have fun when I’m writing. Even when it’s hard. It’s still supposed to be fun hard.

Writers are still some of the most fantastic people I’ve ever met

You know how sometimes you meet someone and you just click right away? That’s how I am with just about everyone I meet at Nebula Con. And I might be biased. Hell, I know I’m biased. But when you meet someone who speaks the same strange language you do, you feel like you’re a little bit more at home than you did before.

I was introduced to this queen

During the event, I attended a two-hour panel about career longevity. It was hosted by Becca Syme, author and career coach. And the things she said blew my mind.

Look, I’ve been around a bit. For someone to say something truly revolutionary for me is impressive. Because I’ve heard all the self-help and inspirational quotes before. Nothing’s been as motivational as her talk.

I don’t want to jack all her material, because you really should go check her out. I will only say that Loki comes into the conversation and it is life-changing. I now need to read all of her books and listen to all of her podcasts.

If you want to do something, go for it

Now, this is the main thing I wanted to talk about today.

I was invited to moderate a panel about cozy horror. To put it mildly, I was not prepared for this. I had never participated in a panel. Moderating the panel is like being the host. I was in charge of coming up with questions and controlling the flow of conversation. And most importantly, ensuring that we ended on time. All of this, and have my face on camera the whole time!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I put out a lot of content that does not include my face.

So I was terrified. This was dramatically out of my comfort zone. But it was also something that sounded like a good experience.

It should be no surprise at all that it was, in fact, a great experience. The people on the panel were kind, funny and very talented writers. I had a fantastic time.

So if you have the opportunity, get out of your comfort zone. Do something you’re scared to do. Prepare for it, learn what you need, and do it. And if you don’t have the opportunity, make one.

Also, if you’ve never been to Nebula Con before, consider checking it out if you can. I, and the space wombats, will see you there.

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Missing Stitches is going wide on June 27th! Check out all the places it will be available here.

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Missing Stitches is going wide

This post is coming out a little later than expected. Everything seems to take more time recently than I think it’s going to.

But better late than never.

Missing Stitches, book three of Woven, is going wide on June 27th.

An ancient sect is rising in Septa. One that might mean death for Lenore and her daughters.

Septa is on the verge of civil war. Lenore, Sultiana, Devon and Victor return to the city to face their uncle. But this danger is soon eclipsed by Brother Brennan, a disillusioned priest of The Creator who is determined to pull Lenore from her throne and put her in her grave.

With the princesses missing, and war raging in the streets, Lenore will have to call on every ounce of light she has to save her family and city.

This book has one of my favorite villains I’ve ever written, Brother Brennan. He is evil, scary, and driven by a religious fanatical hatred.

If you’ve always wanted to read the Woven trilogy, but a dislike of Amazon’s been holding you back, I’m so glad that I can offer it to you now.

More to come.

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Why Incidents Around The House Works

Released in June of last year, Incidents Around The House is an interesting book. It’s a fantastic example of a modern horror novel, and I read it in a matter of days. If I’d had nothing else pulling at my attention, I’d likely have read it in a matter of hours.

Incidents Around The House is a story of a girl named Bela and her family. It is told from Bela’s point of view, in a stream-of-consciousness manner that ignores silly things like grammar, paragraphs, and sentence structure. It is simply the story told from the point of view of a little girl, exactly as she would tell it. And while that was off-putting at first, it wasn’t long before I couldn’t have cared less.

That being said, I would consider this to be an interesting and experimental choice. And one that could have backfired terribly. But it didn’t. Instead, Incidents Around The House was one of my favorite books of the year so far. So let’s break it down and see why it works.

There was no need to convince anyone that bad things were happening

Often at the start of a horror novel, especially a haunted house novel, a lot of time is wasted. Our main character has to convince themself, and possibly others around them, that yes something deeply ominous and dangerous is in fact happening.

In this book, there was none of this. Bela, our main character, knows that something is wrong. And she doesn’t waste any time trying to explain this to her parents. She’d rather her parents not know about ‘Other Mommy’. So we’re able to skip a lot of the tedious, “Why won’t anyone believe me?” nonsense and get right to the “There’s literally something hunting our child,” part of the story.

There’s a great lesson for writers in this. You can skip the tedious parts of a story. You can skip the bits we’ve all seen before. You can skip the boring bits. Because if they’re boring to you, they’re boring to the reader.

Now, is your story going to be nonstop action all the time? Of course not. You’ll build ambiance and character. You need time to set the scene. But you can do this in interesting ways. Certainly, Incidents Around The House does this, introducing Bela and her parents over breakfast while Other Mommy looms in the background.

The sense of despair is great

Throughout the story, Bela and her family turn to one person after another for help with the Other Mommy. Over and over they’re betrayed, turned away and abandoned.

We can feel the frustration in the parents, even though they aren’t the main characters. Even better, we can feel the confusion and helplessness of poor little Bela. She’s realizing, maybe for the first time in her young life that not only do her parents not have everything under control, but most adults don’t either.

This leads to an isolating, choking sort of feeling. One that we feel right along with poor Bela and her parents. It’s horrifying, and quite well done.

This is something I struggle with, personally. Taking away all options from a character. Giving a character hell. But that’s what leads us to a riveting story. It’s certainly what drives me to finish a story. Not just a desire to know what happens, but a need to know how in the hell the characters get themselves out of this mess.

The story played on justifiable fears

Often when writers write children, outside of children’s literature, the characters don’t feel like children. They feel like little adults.

I am astounded by how much Bela feels like a child. And this truly increases the horror of the story. Because this is not a child-friendly story. This is a story that deals with some adult situations. Situations that I wouldn’t want any child to have to experience.

And that is, of course, the point. It is scary to imagine a child going through things their adults can’t protect them from. This allows the story to be ‘real world’ scary instead of just fictionally scary.

Horror always works best when it’s an allegory to something we’re actually afraid of. Most of us don’t fear a demon coming out of our child’s closet to get them. We are scared of them being in danger and not knowing how to help them.

The experimental art form didn’t get in the way of the story

Sometimes when a story’s told in an unusual way, it feels forced. It feels like there was more interest from the writer in experimenting with this new form than in telling the actual story.

And this particular format was a hard sell for me. I don’t want to say I’m a grammar snob, but I am. So if this story hadn’t grabbed me so quickly, so completely, I would have been too uncomfortable with the unstructured structure.

But the story came first. The format fits well with the story being told and allows Bela to truly be center stage.

All in all, Incidents Around The House was a masterclass in creeping horror. It inspired me to try some out-of-the-box formatting with my work. And it certainly inspired some uneasy moments.

As a matter of housekeeping, I will not be posting anything next week because I will be at Nebula Con and it’s my birthday. But we’ll be back with our regularly scheduled post on June 13th.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what we do here, you can support us by liking and sharing this post. You can also support us financially on Ko-fi.

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1

Starting Chains, Chapter Three

Victor was hiding a yawn behind his fist when Talmadge came into his office. His eyes were burning from lack of sleep.

She was a short girl with a neat gown and the sloppiest braid in Septa. She looked around the room, terror written on her face.

“Sorry, Talmadge,” Victor said as he stood to greet her. “I haven’t gotten an hour sleep at a time in a few days now. Our nurse tells me that’s common with infants. Have a seat.”

She looked at the chair he’d indicated, a heavy wooden one with a cushioned seat, as though it must surely be a trick. Finally, though, she sat.

“Do you like the new office?” Victor asked as he took his seat behind the desk. It was a large desk, highly polished. The room had a set of double doors that led out to the garden. There was a thick blue rug on the floor. “I’ve been appointed the Queen’s Apprentice, learning how to keep a palace. Apparently that takes lots of time, and work; far too much book keeping and a whole office.”

“I’m sorry, why am I here?” Talmadge blurted finally.

Victor grinned at her. “Wait. We’re missing someone.”

There was a knock on the door. When he called a greeting, two guards escorted Thomas, the disgraced spymaster of Septa, into the room.

Prison obviously had not agreed with Tom. His fine clothes had been replaced by undyed, rough spun cloth. His usually well cared for hair looked greasy.

The guards dropped Tom in front of the desk. Talmadge shied away from her former employer, but Victor’s grin widened. “How’s prison?” he asked. “From what I remember, the food was a little uninspired.”

“Prince Victor,” Tom sputtered.

“Oh, I do love to hear you use my shiny new title. Especially since the last time we spoke you were calling me a traitor and advising the king to execute me,” he replied.

“Sire, I was misled. My informants-”

“No, shut your damn mouth,” Victor’s smile dropped away. “I was your informant, you sneaking coward. You think I’m stupid enough to fall for the same lie you tried to use against me?”

“Again, why am I here?” Talmadge asked.

“Because I want to offer you his old job, and I want him to know I’m offering it to you,” Victor said.

“Are you kidding? She’s an untrained maid, for Creator’s sake!” Tom cried.

“No, she’s a maid who can read all of your codes, and has been feeding you information for years,” Victor said. He leaned across his desk and glared down at Tom. “You’re a bad spy, but you’re really good at using talented people.”

“I think you’re vastly overstating my talents,” Talmadge added, wringing her fingers.

“This wasn’t my idea. It was King Samuel’s. He’s just delegating it to me. Though I happen to think he’s right.”

“The king really has lost his mind,” Tom muttered.

Victor stood. In his fury, his hands glowed blue with magic. “You will watch how you speak of that man in front of me,” he growled. “I owe him my world. Talmadge will be our spymaster, and we’re going to toss you into the same dark hole we threw former Elder Brother Marcus.”

“Wait,” Talmadge said, holding a hand up. “Don’t lock him up.”

“Why? He was a terrible master to you,” Victor asked.

“But we can use him,” she replied. “You and the king think I’m a good spy, but I’m not. It’s just that, well, people are more willing to talk around you if they think you’re a nobody. So, if you tell everyone I’m the spymaster, I won’t learn anything new.”

“Ah, but if people still think this fool is in charge they won’t pay attention to you,” Victor said. “See, I knew you’d be good at this. You can keep him, if you want. You’ll have to watch him carefully, though.”

“Of course,” Talmadge agreed.

“What makes you think I’d agree to this insulting situation?” Tom spat.

She took a deep breath and stood, looking Tom full in the face for what Victor was sure was the first time. “Well, you can do this, or I’ll pick a pretty face off the street and the king can toss you back in a cell. I can work just as well with any warm body in that seat.”

Tom looked sober at that. Finally, his voice dripping with sarcasm, he replied. “Fine. I am happy to serve the throne.”

“Thank you for your service,” Victor snapped. The guards escorted Tom from the room, and Victor turned his attention back to Talmadge.

“Are you really sure about this?” Talmadge asked. “If this is about me finding those letters, you don’t owe me anything. It didn’t even work. The king was still going to execute you.”

“Madge, if this was just about thanking you, I’d give you a title and some land. But I cannot afford to have someone I don’t trust as spymaster. I need you to tell me what’s going on in the city.”

“You’re right about that. People are angry, and they’re whispering,” she replied.

“How many of them are whispering about my wife?” he asked.

“More than we should be comfortable with,” she said.

Victor nodded. “I can’t imagine half of the noble families leaving the court in protest is helping.”

“You and Anthony must stay close to Lenore. She’s in more danger now than ever.”

“Yeah,” Victor said. He stood and went to the doors to look out at the garden. Lenore was there, with Ramona and the babies. They were napping on a blanket in the sunlight. “You know, she saved this damn city from Marcus. You’d think people would be grateful.”

“And there are hundreds who are,” Talmadge responded. “She spent her youth taking care of people behind the Elder Brother’s back. She spins light and darkness into thread. Lots of people are ready to fight for her. They even accept you because of her.”

“That’s the problem. It’s not just that people are angry, it’s the division. The whole city’s ready to tear each other apart.”

Talmadge smiled. “She’ll win them over. She’s good like that.”

Victor smiled too. “Who knows better than me how easy Lenore is to love?”

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©Copyright Nicole Luttrell. All rights reserved.

1

Starting Chains, Chapter Two

Sultiana tilted her head back to feel the sun on her bare face. It was the first time she’d felt it without her veil since she’d come of age. She exulted in knowing that she would never wear one again.

She looked down from the sky and smiled at the scene before her. She stood in the tile covered courtyard in front of the palace of Calistar, her home. Great clay basins overflowing with desert flowers spotted the area. The tiles and fountain were covered in a thick carpet of cherry blossoms, sent as a gift from Queen Shori of Coveline.

Her Father, King Omar, stood in front of the fountain. He was a huge man with a bald head and a neatly trimmed beard. Like all royalty in Calistar, he wore white silk that fluttered in the wind. He was smiling with such pride that it made Sultiana’s heart swell. But her eyes were drawn to Devon.

The man who would be her husband was dressed in noble white silk, with his dagger tucked into his belt. He was conspicuous, being the only white man in attendance, likely in the whole country. The desert wind ruffled his thick curly hair. He was everything she had ever wanted him to be.

Sultiana started down the aisle, the gold coins on the hem of her white silk gown making music as she went. She did her best to keep her eyes on friendly faces. Neva, Omar’s new wife, was standing among Sultiana’s little sisters. She was no more than a few years older than Sultiana. She wore a white veil over her face, with a coiled braid on the top of her head like a crown. Her belly was swollen with child, and she set a hand on it as she beamed at Sultiana.

Aini and Cala, the two younger girls, were trying to stand without bouncing in excitement. Aini, as always, had a crooked veil, and her braid was coming undone. Cala looked just like their mother for whom she was named, with an upturned nose and lighter skin than her sisters. Chrissie, the second oldest, was trying to look stern and disinterested behind her veil. As she was too young for such a look, it came off as pouty.

The crowd was full of men and women of Calistar. Some were excited and tossed flower petals as she walked. Many, too many for her comfort, stood with arms crossed. Most men wouldn’t even look at her, choosing instead to look at the ground or at the people standing in a cluster at the fountain.

She tilted her head high and smiled for Devon anyway. When she reached him, he held his hands out to her. “You look amazing,” he whispered.

“Truly, you do,” Omar said. He set his hands over theirs. “Brothers and sisters, it brings me the greatest of joy and honor to join together my daughter, Princess Heir Sultiana and Prince Devon of Septa. Theirs was a union decided upon years ago, an arrangement that was to forge a bond of family between Calistar and Septa. This their marriage will do, and so much more.”

He smiled over the crowd, though few smiled back. “They enter their marriage as friends. They have trained and fought together. They share a sacred bond, as the first woman to wield steel magic, and the first man with thread magic. With this foundation of mutual respect and appreciation, and with the gods of both lands smiling upon them, surely they will be ready for whatever the future holds for our great country.”

There was some hissing from the crowd.

“And,” Omar said, talking louder, “Sultiana, as our first ruling queen, will surely bring the smile of the goddesses upon our lands.”

Chrissie made a noise that could have been a snort, but Aini elbowed her in the side.

“Now, before the eyes of our people and the gods themselves, I declare you to be husband and wife.”

Sultiana and Devon leaned towards each other for their first kiss, at least the first one anyone else knew of. Their old training master, Shilom, cheered. He was a shorter man, battle worn, in blue scholar’s robes. Kadar, Omar’s chief adviser, cheered as well. Kadar’s hair was set in hundreds of small braids, each with a red bead at the end that clacked together as he cheered. Neva, the little girls, and a handful of others joined them. Many others remained silent.

Stella, Princess of Coveline and Devon’s student, hurried to his side as people came to congratulate them. She was a young dragon, blue in color with silver ridges across her long back. As most people in Calistar were not accustomed to seeing dragons on a regular basis, she was given a wide berth.

“Master Devon, are you all right?” she asked.

“Well, of course. I’m wonderful in fact, why?” he replied.

“Your hand is twitching,” she said. Her friend Hiro joined them. A full blooded Vondrai dragon, he was longer than Stella with thinner legs. “Can I help you to your rooms?” he asked.

“I’m fine for now, thank you,” Devon said.

“Let’s go into the dining hall,” Omar suggested.

“Yes,” Sultiana agreed. She took Devon’s hand, and noticed that his fingers did seem to be twitching. As they led the way into the palace, she said, “Do you need to go to your loom?”

“I think the vision can wait. I’m not ready to break up the party,” Devon replied giving her hand a squeeze.

A man dressed in the trades tribe yellow came to Devon’s side, and clapped him on the shoulder. He was a young man with a prominent nose. “May I be the first to congratulate you? Surely you have married the loveliest woman in the world. And I should know, because I’ve seen most of it.”

“Thank you,” Devon said, offering his hand to shake. “What’s your name?”

“I am Ferris, the leader of the trader’s tribe. I hope that you will find our tribe more open-minded then some others. We are ready to move into the future.”

“Yes, we are,” said a woman who walked next to Ferris. She also wore yellow and like Sultiana, she was unveiled. “Princess, I’m Fidal, and I can’t thank you enough for my new freedom. When my brother and I are abroad, I don’t wear my veil. It’s amazing how itchy it feels when you’re not accustomed to it.”

“So I’ve learned,” Sultiana said, grinning.

“Well,” sniffed an older woman in scholar’s blue, “If you young girls are going to go about unveiled, I suppose I’ll be all right.” She removed her veil and bowed to Sultiana. “And I would like to extend a thank you, from the women of my tribe.” Sultiana recognized her as Gia, her History and Language instructor from childhood.

“For what?” Sultiana asked.

“For making history,” Gia said. She turned and gestured towards the crowd. Women in blue and yellow were removing their veils and letting them flutter away in the wind. Many of them giggled, some looked unsure, some even cheered. Sultiana noticed that the farming women in green, the shepherd women in orange, and what few smith women in red who were present, kept their veils steadily on. She didn’t care a bit. Let them stay behind their veils if they wanted, she would never be bound to one again.

Devon’s hands were shaking. He looked up at the cloud of veils wafting in the breeze, and said, “I’m sorry, but I think I might need to go to our rooms after all, ‘Tiana. Can you help me?”

“Yes,” she replied, tearing her eyes away from the sight. She took him by the arm, leaving Omar and Stella to explain.

Sultiana pulled him through the halls of the palace, past the marble pillars that supported the walls covered in carvings and tapestries that showed the history of her people. Their boots clicked over tiles of every color.

Finally, she pulled him into their series of rooms. The sitting room was decorated with a plush red carpet, an ornate table, and a loom with a cushion before it. It was there that she led Devon to. His hands sought the thread and started to fly.

Chrissie and Neva joined them. Neva was holding a plate of food, grape leaves stuffed with lamb and rice. She sat it next to Sultiana.

“People are muttering,” Chrissie sighed.

“Let them,” Sultiana replied. “The man’s a seer; I don’t know what they expect.”

An image was taking shape on Devon’s loom.

“Having a Septan husband who weaves was hard enough without you letting all of those women take their veils off. Then he’s got to have a little episode,” she muttered.

“Chrissie,” Neva snapped, “you should show more respect for Goddess Malonie. She sent these visions to the prince.”

“I wish she’d send them somewhere else,” Chrissie said.

Devon slumped on his cushion. Sultiana looked at the image. It was a coin, in the process of spinning. On both sides were woman’s faces. One smiled and one wept.

“What is this?” Sultiana asked.

Devon leaned against her, and gratefully took the grape leaf she offered him. “Our nieces. I don’t know what it means, but I know it’s them.”

“But they’re not even born yet,” Chrissie said.

Just then, a woven cuff on Devon’s wrist started to glow blue. He smiled, and said, “I can hear you, Lenore. Have they got ten fingers and toes apiece?” After a few minutes, he added. “That’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see them. I’ll talk to you, soon.”

He grinned at Sultiana, and the glow faded from his cuff. “The girls are named Eleanor and Loralie.”

“Big day, all things considered,” Sultiana said.

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©Copyright Nicole Luttrell. All rights reserved.

0

Starting Chains, Chapter One

Part One

Prologue

You think you know anger, you silly thing. You think you understand fury, betrayal. It’s hilarious when you little nothings think you have an understanding of those emotions.

Your hero failed you, didn’t he? The Great Calvin, who everyone thought would be the champion for the common man. They all fail, after a while. Heroes are just people, after all, and people fail. Certainly, your hero failed me. The greatest fault of the males of your species is always your obsession with the females.

But it is not as though he was important. Not so important that he cannot be replaced by a hundred others. After all, you’re hearing me now.

Your new hero will arrive soon, and he will fail you, too. The difference is, this time you will know my rage. Soon, you will learn the true meaning of anger.

And while you take care of the shining one, the precious little vessel, I can deal with other matters. My blood waits in the rip of the land. It only needs a drop of blood to awaken, and I’m sure it will get it. There is always blood when two neighbors fight over history.

Chapter One

Victor paced the floor of the game room, a low growl barely contained in his throat. Everything about the room, from the soft backed chairs to the heavy curtains and the thick wooden tables irritated him right then. Including every single other man in it.

Lord Lewis, Victor’s uncle by marriage, and his son Howard played pool. They were knocking the balls together louder than he thought was really necessary. Every now and then Lewis would look up at Victor and chuckle. He was a broad man, with gray hair and a paunch he hadn’t had in his youth. Howard looked much like him, but with darker hair and no paunch to speak of yet.

“First time jitters,” Lewis said finally. “I was just the same when my twins were born.”

Oliver sat on the couch by the fire with Lord James. “Sit down, Victor,” he said. “The king will be back in a moment to tell us how it’s going.”

Oliver was, in Victor’s opinion, too good looking for a man. His hair got far too much attention; his perfect face was in need of roughening. The only thing that redeemed him was the kindness in his eyes.

Lord James chuckled, flipping through the pages of a book. He was the only other man besides Victor in the room with light hair, a sign of their shared Montelarian heritage. But where Victor was tall and broad, James was a thin man. “It’s hard for you to be away from her right now, isn’t it?” James asked.

“It is not right,” Victor snapped. “I should be with her, she needs me.”

“That’s just where you shouldn’t be,” Lewis said, pointing his pool cue at him. “You have no more place in a birthing chamber than Lenore would have on a battle field.”

Victor thought of his wife and how she’d looked on the battle field, digging her dagger into the back of the neck of the man who’d killed her brother. He thought she’d done just fine.
“That is the way things are done in Montelair,” Victor said. “My da was with my ma when she had us.”

Howard set a hand on his shoulder. “You know you shouldn’t talk like that,” he said. “The people of Septa are having a hard enough time accepting a Montelarian so close to the throne. If we can’t let you wear your furred boots in public, we can’t let you follow Montelarian birth customs.”

Victor glanced down at his high polished boots. As far as he could tell, their only benefit was to match his black silk pants and Septan blue jacket. “Don’t remind me; they pinch,” he muttered.

“Victor, we all know how hard it’s been, getting used to Septa customs. But Montelair has been our enemy for so long. You can see why it’s been necessary, can’t you?” Oliver asked.

“You would think killing my brother would be enough to prove my loyalty to the Mestonie family,” Victor said, “Maybe even give me enough leeway to actually take care of my wife the way I think she should be taken care of!”

There was a scream from the other wing of the palace. Victor recognized Lenore’s voice. He started towards the door, but it opened before he could reach it.

King Samuel, his father in law, stood there. He was one of the few men in the palace big enough to look Victor in the eye. His hair was thick, with a steady streak of gray coming from both of his temples.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a smile.

“Lenore is screaming,” Victor said.

“She’s in pain,” Samuel replied, “Women suffer to bring our children into the world, and we should never forget that.”

“Did they let you in to see her?” Victor asked.

“No, of course not,” Samuel said with a chuckle. “But Lorna spoke to me in the outer chamber and told me that all is going as well as can be expected.”

“Lenore’s got two midwives, Lorna and her auntie Heather,” Lewis said, naming his wife. “She is well supported.”

“Ramona and Tabitha are with her, too,” James said. James was common born, too. He knew the presence of Lenore’s own nurse and maid would be more of a comfort to Victor than a noble aunt neither of them was fond of.

Samuel sat down at a table that supported a chess set. “Come and have a game. It will make the time go faster,” he said.

Victor thought this unlikely, but to please Samuel he took a seat. But for the gray in his hair, Samuel looked just like he had the night they met. Victor had been so afraid that night, desperately trying to stop his mad brother from murdering Lenore and her family. He hadn’t expected to survive, let alone be given a job. Nearly three years had passed, and now he was the husband of the princess who would someday be queen.

“I remember when Lenore was born,” Samuel said, setting up the chess pieces. “It was the first time I ever heard Lorna raise her voice.”

“Not much like Lenore then,” Howard answered with a grin.

The men laughed, but over their laughter Victor could hear Lenore’s voice. It didn’t sound like just a scream this time.

“Is she calling for me?” he asked.

Samuel’s cheeks turned red. “No, you’re hearing things,” he said. But the scream came again, and this time it was clearer. “Victor!”

He was out of his seat and to the door before anyone else in the room had time to react. As he ran through the halls of the palace, no one dared stop him. The other noblemen didn’t even bother to follow.

Lenore’s new body guard, Anthony, was standing in front of the door to the entry chamber. A tall, lanky man with a long tail of hair, he looked as bored as ever. He saw Victor coming and moved aside.

“Thanks,” Victor said.

“Queen Mother is only going to throw you out anyway,” Anthony replied.

Howard’s twin sister Harper sat in the chamber with Lady Hannah. They were Lenore’s ladies of court and closest noble friends. Harper was a tall woman, thinner than her brother. Hannah was shorter, with a broad, soft build.

Lenore’s hound, Shepard, was lying in front of the door to the birthing chamber, looking forlorn. She, like Victor, was unaccustomed to being away from Lenore this long.

Both women jumped when he burst into the room. “What are you doing? I nearly put my needle through my finger,” Harper cried.

“Was Lenore calling for me?” he asked.

“She was,” Hannah said with a nod. Unlike the rest of court, she had not yet removed the black mourning cloths for Prince Octavian. “But I don’t think the queen will let you go in.”

“Don’t you tell me what I want!” Lenore screamed. “Victor promised me he would be here, and I want him here now, not later when I’m all fancied up!”

“Are you entirely sure you want to go in there?” Harper asked.

“Of course. She won’t yell at me like that.” He opened the door to the birth chamber while Harper snorted.

The room was large and circular. In the center of the room was a bed on which Lenore sat, her nightgown pulled up around her waist. Her long, curly hair was pulled back in a messy braid, and her face was covered in sweat. A midwife knelt in front of her, hands between her legs. Queen Lorna stood between two waiting bassinets, looking tired.

“What in The Creator’s name took you so long?” Lenore cried.

“I am sorry,” he said, coming to her side.

“Oh, no,” Lorna stopped him with a raised hand. “You’re not staying, not with her in this state.”

“Mother, shut up!” Lenore cried. “He put the babies in there, he’s seen it. And if anyone makes him leave I’m going to make them as miserable as me!”

Ramona and Tabitha glanced at each other. “No, that’s all right,” Tabitha said.

“He’s not bothering me,” Ramona added. “Make yourself useful, boy.” She handed him a clean cloth and pointed towards a bucket of iced water.

Victor took off his jacket and dipped the cloth in the water. He sat down behind Lenore on the bed so that she could lean against him and set the cloth to her cheek. “Your uncle said to me that I had no more place in this room than you would have on a battlefield,” he chuckled.

“Then you should do fine,” Lenore replied, tensing with pain.

“He must not remember the last time Montelair attacked,” Victor said. He washed her face. “We’re changing all the rules, aren’t we, my girl?”

Lorna sniffed, but brought a fresh towel to the bed. “I suppose the next thing will be that you want me to teach you how to run the bloody palace,” she muttered.

“I’d be honored, if you have the time,” he said. When Lorna gave him a sharp look he shrugged. “My old job is taken. I cannot be idle while my wife works.”

Lenore screamed, and pressed against him. He put his arm around her. “Deep breaths,” the midwife said. “In, hold, out.”

Lenore breathed for a few minutes. When the pain subsided, she said, “I wish Devon could have stayed to meet the girls. And Octavian, they’ll never even get to meet him.”

“Octavian will watch over our girls like a guardian angel,” Ramona said. “And I’m sure Devon and Sultiana will visit soon.”

“We haven’t thought of any names yet,” Victor said, trying to change the subject.

“You pick,” Lenore said.

“You can’t give them Montelarian names,” Lorna said.

“Hush, Lady Mother, you are upsetting my wife,” Victor replied.

Hours passed. Lenore’s pain grew worse. Victor started to get worried. He brushed stray bits of hair from her face. “Tabby, will you come and fix her braid?” he asked, thinking that getting her hair out of her face would be some relief.

Tabitha nodded. She brushed Lenore’s hair and set it in a neat plait while she napped between bouts of pain. “One of the many benefits of being sapphic,” she whispered. “Girls don’t get other girls pregnant.”

“Does it normally take this long? The midwife would know if there was something wrong, wouldn’t she?” Victor asked.

Tabitha gave him a smile. “Yes, she would know. She’s the best midwife in the country.”

The midwife in question moved Lenore’s knees apart, and said, “Don’t you fuss about me. The princess has only been in labor for six hours. Many women take days to bring their children into the world. They will come when they’re ready and be cared for like every other baby born in this palace.”

“My heir, the first girl ever to be born heir to the throne,” Lenore said with a smile. Then, she drifted back into a light doze.

Lorna shook her head. “You should talk her out of that, you know. It’s one thing for Lenore to rule, Octavian chose her. But your daughter doesn’t have to.”

Victor raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m only thinking of the baby,” Lorna said, “Lenore’s life is going to be hard. Don’t you want something better for your daughter?”

“My Lady Mother, how about you suggest to Lenore that her daughter not inherit?” Victor asked.

Lorna sighed. “I only want what’s best for you all.”

Lenore was stirring, moaning in pain again. The midwife looked between her legs, and said, “She’s crowning.”

“Are you ready?” Ramona asked.

“I’d better be,” Lenore replied.

“Push!” said the midwife.

Lenore pushed. Victor held her close and whispered, “You are so strong, so brave.” Lenore screamed, and soon her screams were joined by those of her daughter.

The midwife pulled the baby girl out and held her up. “Look at that blond hair,” she exclaimed.

Victor looked at his daughter, aching to hold her. But there was another baby coming, so Ramona took the first born to clean her.

Lenore was screaming again, and another ten minutes of pain followed. Finally, the second daughter, tiny and dark haired, came into the world.

“Our girls,” Lenore murmured.

The midwives hurried to get Lenore cleaned up and in a second waiting bed.

Ramona and Lorna brought the babies to the bed. They placed the girls into Lenore’s arms, and she set them to her breasts for their first meals.

“I’m so tired I don’t know if I can hold them,” she whispered.

“I’ll help,” Victor said, placing his arms under hers, supporting them all.

“What do you want to name them?” she asked.

Victor smiled. “The one with the golden hair, we’ll call Eleanor, for you my love. And the dark haired one can be Loralie.”

“To match,” Lenore said. “That’s good. Eleanor will need her sister. She’ll need all the help she can get.”

Lenore fell asleep, and Victor held his little family close. There were so many dangers waiting outside of those doors, he thought. The people in Septa who didn’t want a ruling queen, much less one with a Montelarian husband. A bitter Montelair, full of men furious at how the war had ended, hung over their heads as well.

“Other das just have to worry about scraped knees and boys,” he whispered. He looked up at Tabitha, who sat nearby. “These girls have inherited all of our enemies.”

Tabitha gave him a sleepy grin. “Good thing they’ve inherited all of your friends, too,” she replied.

Lorna wiped tears from her face. For the first time ever, Victor felt close to the cold woman. “You should take Eleanor out to see her people,” she said.

“Just her?” Victor asked. “Won’t the people want to see both of them?”

“She is the heir. She will always be the people’s first priority,” Lorna said.

“She’s sure to curse us for that one day,” Victor said. Nevertheless, he took his daughter with care, and carried her to the balcony attached to the birthing chamber to see her people.

©Copyright Nicole Luttrell. All rights reserved.

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0

Care Giving

In December my darling husband had a brain bleed stroke. He spent two months in the hospital and then rehab before regaining the health he needed to come home.

But he wasn’t whole, or healthy. He came home and needed a lot of care. And while he’s improved, he still needs me more than ever.

Thank God I work from home.

In addition to some cognitive issues, he’s mostly paralyzed on his right side. His movement is coming back, but slowly. And so I find myself in another season of caregiving.

Nothing he needs is difficult. It’s only that the requirements are numerous. During the day I might be called from my desk to help him perform some basic functions. Or fix the TV. Or let in the many therapists that come into our home weekly.

He cannot cook for himself, so I cook for all of us. I am managing his medication and his insulin. I am managing as well his doctors’ appointments.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been called into a caretaker position. I took care of my mother as a teenager when she became chronically ill. I cared for my grandmother for a time after surgery. I cared for my mother-in-law as well for years when a simple back surgery led to one complication after another.

Caring for him is not easy. I’m not naturally patient or particularly nurturing. And while nothing I need to do is overly difficult, there are constantly things that need to be done.

Days feel so long sometimes. And it often feels like my brain is full of fiberglass, slowly yet constantly scratching and cutting me.

Two things can be true at the same time. I am frustrated with caregiving. But I am also so thankful that he’s home and alive. Because that was not a given when this shitshow started.

But we’re not here today for me to air my grievances or even rejoice in the fact that he’s still alive. I’m here because I’ve learned a lot about caregiving. And while I’ve spoken before about being a writer while also being a caregiver, I’ve never talked about specific caregiving advice. So, since that’s what’s filling up my days right now, that’s what we’re going to talk about today.

So here are some lessons I’ve learned in caregiving.

You’re gonna mess up

I have messed up so, so many times while caring for my husband. I’ve forgotten to give him his meds. I’ve accidentally tipped him out of his wheelchair. I’ve lost my temper badly enough that I needed to leave the house for a bit to calm down.

None of us are perfect. And when we’re caring for a loved one at home, we’re basically on call for a job we did not sign up for and are not getting paid for around the clock. So yes, we are going to make mistakes. But honestly, most of the mistakes are liveable. We learn, we correct, and we apologize when we need to. And we go on to make different mistakes the next day.

So long as no one’s bleeding and everyone’s breathing, we can try again the next day.

You’re gonna need help

This has not been a solo project on my part. The husband’s parents have helped when they can. We’ve had physical and occupational therapists in, helping him heal and teaching me how to care for him. His doctor has helped. And my friends have been a constant well of support.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you’re trying to care for someone. It’s a massive job, and no one should be expected to do it alone. You might need some extra cash, or someone to come help clean up the house a little. Even just someone to listen to you while you lose your mind a little. Lean on the people you have to lean on. Otherwise, you’re going to crumble.

You’re gonna have to let some things go

Sadly, a lot of my writing has gone on the back burner. Some days I get to it. Most days I don’t.

I don’t usually cook dinner. I get a lot of frozen meals, and we’ve been eating out a lot. I’ve also just straight-up made tuna sandwiches when I didn’t even have the energy to Doordash something.

Fed is best.

But my house has been messy, my writing’s been ignored. And sadly, I’ve had to say no to some opportunities I wanted to take part in.

Right now, I have to prioritize my mental health and his overall health. Everything else is debatable. Everything else can be put off for another day.

Don’t forget that ‘care’ is the first part of this

This was the hardest lesson I’ve learned. And it was one of the things I messed up a lot at first.

There are a lot of things that need to be done every day. The cleaning and cooking and caring for things like medicine and baths. The laundry is a constant battle. The dishes snicker at me when I walk past. At least two plants have died.

But the most important thing about caretaking is caring for this person. Making sure they’re okay emotionally. Sometimes that means just sitting with them, and letting them talk about their problems. Sometimes it means having patience to let them try to do things when it would be so much easier to do the thing for them. Sometimes it means holding a heating pad in place, or bringing another cool washcloth, or just assuring them that you’re right there, and you’re going to be right there, for as long as it takes.

At first, I was impatient with this part. I had things to do, important things that I had to do to keep us all alive. I didn’t have time to sit down and hold his hand through this. I needed to make sure he had something to eat and was clean, and doing his exercises, and a thousand other little things.

But none of that matters as much as the real caretaking work. The caring enough to slow down, and help the person you love process what the world looks like to them during this time.

Overall, the biggest lesson I’ve learned is this. He and I, we’re on this journey together. We’re healing together. And when I look at the situation that way, things are more manageable. It’s easier to keep everything in perspective when I see us as a team.

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The End of Haunted MTL

The publishing world is ever changing. What was a thriving online market yesterday could well be bankrupt tomorrow. A publishing company that was an unquestioned pillar can crumble. A beloved author can seemingly go out of her way to destroy her reputation.

And a beloved horror review site can shutter.

Sadly, Haunted MTL is no more. And, I might as well rip this band-aid off now, there will not be another season of AA.

I might write the story in book form, if anyone is interested. I was certainly going somewhere with the story.

I started working for Haunted MTL in 2019. I’d already published several novels by this time, but this was something different. This was an actual writing job.

I loved my time writing for Haunted MTL. I met so many amazing writers and made friends with several. There is nothing better than writing friends. I got to see horror movies that I might never have seen. Some I wish had never assaulted my eyeballs, like Antichrist. Some I loved very much, like Silent Night and Pooka. I conducted live tweet events during American Horror Story and Dexter, and got to talk to fellow fans all around the world.

Being a critic was a fantastic experience. If you want to be a good writer, one important exercise is to dissect a piece of work that you have strong opinions about, good or bad, and consider why it either works or doesn’t work. As a critic, that was exactly what I did twice a week. And I even got paid for it.

I was also invited to participate in several charity anthologies, which is always great. We conducted storytelling events through the years, writing short stories together. Including several years of Christmas and holiday horrors.

We did podcasts. We did events. We once read A Christmas Carol together and posted it. It was a laugh.

It was too good, maybe, to last.

I will miss Haunted MTL. I will miss the sense of writing camaraderie. Of being on staff. Of being part of a team.

But even as I mourn, I know it’s time to move on. As I said at the top, the publishing world is ever changing. And so even as this spooky door closes, another will open.

If you find yourself in this sort of situation, I’m so sorry. But remember, setbacks like this don’t necessarily reflect on you. Sometimes projects don’t work. We are artists, and art is subjective. Sometimes we’re going to do our level best and still not succeed. All there is for us then is to dust ourselves off, have a little cry, and write another story.

Then another, and another.

Paper Beats World is a labor of love. If you love what we do here, you can support us by liking or sharing this post. You can also support us financially on Ko-fi.

Starting Chains is going wide! Check out all the places it will be available here.

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