30: Sister Elspeth

Last week I promised you a set of writer’s notes on how the mad surrealism I write with is linked to hope. With apologies to my free subscribers, I appear to be coming down with a virus just now, on top of an awful lot of other not-so-pleasant things which have happened in recent weeks. So I’m going to go straight to today’s story episode and, asssuming life has stopped its favourite hobby of beating me up and I’ve been able to get some head space, I will return to the theme of hope (I hope!) next week. In the meantime, please send dairy-free chocolate, jam doughnuts and well-written* fantasy stories to keep me going.

[*Well written = not the mass produced romantasy tripe written by screenagers which is appearing on TikTok at the moment. Well written = Laini Taylor, Samantha Shannon, Trudi Canavan, Juliet Marillier, et al. People who know what a plot, research, unique characters and proper imagination are].

Episode 30: Sister Elspeth

Lorelei felt the furnace turn on in her cheeks as Sister Olive Susan stared at her across ten feet of tiled cloister. She stood still, not at all sure what to do. If she went into chapel, the donkey would come too, she just knew it. But if she walked away and went to hide somewhere, she’d be breaking the rules and questions would be asked by Mother or Sister Isadora Isaiah, or worse, both of them.