A story that never ends…
In each issue, a new writer picks up where the previous author ended. After Otilia Dragan wrote about how some characters showed their teeth, Beáta Fülöp speaks of heartbreak cures – and meetings on alternative energy? We hope you are as excited as we are to find out where the story goes! Previous stories are available online via queer.lu and writers are encouraged to write in either English, German, French or Luxembourgish.
Nell didn’t remember how she got home. All she knew was that she was suddenly back in her apartment, staring in front of herself and shaking.
It wasn’t her first breakdown – if that is even what this was. After all, wasn’t her reaction a completely normal one? Anyone in her place would panic, right? But then again… Had it all even happened, really? The memory was still painfully fresh in Nell’s mind, so sharp and clear that it felt like it would never fade away. But—Werewolves?!
Nell had been in bad places before, mentally. She had learned the hard way some things about how to act in a crisis. ‘Don’t be alone’ was one of the most important of those lessons. If she remained at home, she would spend the entire weekend hiding away in her bed, not eating or showering, and hardly drinking any water, becoming more and more paranoid. When she’d have to finally leave the house on Monday, she’d barely be able to do so. She knew, because she’d gone through it before. It was not something that she wanted to go through again.
So she went where she always felt safe: Her mother’s place.
Nell’s parents were divorced, and she was on good terms with both of them. She did prefer her mother’s house— because it was quieter, steadier. Her father’s new family was lovely, although it had taken Nell some time to warm up to them. It was also a family with two teenage boys, and all the noise and chaos that came with it. As to her mother and her father… They were on speaking terms now. This hadn’t always been the case.
Instead of re-marrying, her mother had coped with the divorce by falling down a spirituality rabbit hole online. She’d managed to catch herself before she became too deeply involved with the cult-y side of spiritualism, but it had been close. Witnessing this had left a deep mark on Nell and the way she approached the world.
Spiritualism was an important part of her mother’s life nonetheless. She loved it, she lived for it, she knew enough to be considered a local expert. So when Nell arrived with only a moment’s notice, visibly shaken and stubbornly refusing to tell her about her reason for it, she did what any good Internet-trained witch would do: She led her daughter inside, made her sit down in a circle of dried herbs and energy balancing crystals, put on soothing meditation music, and made her tea. It actually helped, or maybe the familiar environment did, and for the first time since Jess’ revelation in the car, Nell relaxed. Her mother sat with her, sipping her own tea in silence. Waiting.
“I broke up with Jess,” said Nell at last.
Her mother placed an arm around her, and Nell had to be careful to avoid her cup getting knocked out of her hand.
“She lied to me, Mama,” whispered Nell into her shoulder. For the first time since the evening before, she could cry. And so she did. She cried long and hard, sobbing until she got the hiccups.
Her mother didn’t press for details. Instead, she waited for Nell to calm down. Then she gave her something to do.
She was hosting a round table discussion for the commune that evening, and could use the help preparing the room. And so Nell arranged chairs and set out water glasses, while her mother fought a desperate battle with the projector. The projector finally lost, and a stock image of some wind turbines flickered onto the screen under the title: Alternative energies: Yes or No.
This was not the first such meeting. Or the second. The group knew each other well, and had everyone’s arguments long since memorized. The question was nuclear versus renewable energy sources, how it could be best implemented in Luxembourg, and whether it even should be. Most people agreed that nuclear power was not good. Unfortunately, many of them also had a problem with wind turbines, especially when they stood near your house. Nobody likes long shadows across their garden. And the birds—won’t someone think of the birds?!
While the little group was passionately discussing the exact same arguments that they’d already debated four times, Nell’s thoughts wandered elsewhere.
A dark forest. Branches tearing at bare skin. Heavy, animal breath behind her—closer, closer…
Werewolves aren’t real.
Jess, smiling at her over a cup of coffee. Jess, in her sweatpants, sitting next to her while watching a movie. Jess, singing along to the radio while driving. Jess, in a dark forest…
But werewolves aren’t real. They can’t be.
Lana’s things were in the box that she’d finally packed them away in, ready for their owner to come and collect them. Her favorite mug was in there. It was a dark green hunter’s-shop mug with the brown hare. Lana had always loved hares.
Werewolves aren’t real.
Right?
Watching her mother’s slip into online spiritualism had taught Nell one thing above all: That it was frighteningly easy, too easy, to believe in comforting fantasies. Because it made sense, that version of the world. In many ways, it made more sense than reality did. It made sense for benevolent spirits to be watching over you. It made sense for stars to dictate your fate. It made sense for there to be groups of secret initiates guarding an ancient wisdom.
It made sense for there to be monsters.
It also made sense for nuclear power to be evil, for wind turbines to have an evil side. Maybe they radiated some kind of bad wind turbine energy, and maybe that energy would mutate a spider living nearby, and if that spider bit someone…
Wait. That was an actual argument being made right now.
Nell checked the clock. This meeting had been dragging out forever. And yet… she was happy to not be alone.
They ended an hour late, most of which had been consumed by a fresh debate about 5G and how wind turbines could be used to secretly spread it. Nell had tried to debunk that particular argument in the past, but it just wouldn’t die.
“Is everything all right, Nell?” asked a kindly neighbour when the room emptied. “You really are in the forest today.” Being in the forest was a popular Luxembourgish expression for when someone was distracted, just like the German sitting on a cable. Nell forced a smile and shrugged. When she closed her eyes, she saw dark trees blocking out the light of the full moon, etched into the back of her eyelid.
“Her girlfriend broke up with her,” her mother supplied.
“No,” Nell corrected her, almost without thinking. “I broke up with her. After she lied. And kept secrets from me.”
And after she killed Lana. Don’t forget that part. Or how, before doing that, she’d been seducing her away from Nell – she’d known full well that Lana had a girlfriend.
“Oh, honey, that’s awful!” exclaimed the neighbour, Frau Schröder. “I’m sure you’ll find someone better soon! Catherine, have you seen the rumours about the wolves?”
Nell’s blood turned to ice.
“Wolves?” she asked, too quickly.
“Yes, wolves! Here, in Luxembourg. At least that’s what the authorities claim. They of course couldn’t find any actual wolves so far, not with all their fancy cameras and wildlife experts. But they keep finding animals that can only have been mauled by a wolf. Or again, so they claim. My daughter works at the Service Forêts. She says that it is impossible for there to be wolves in Luxembourg without anyone noticing it. I think they are covering something up.”
A gleam lit her mother’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” she said. “Remind me to post about it on Facebook. Someone should look into this!”
Nell was about to say something, but then she remembered the branches tearing at bare skin, and the breath hot on Lana’s neck.
No, she decided. Let them talk. Let them raise some noise.
They might actually achieve more than they do debating wind turbines.
