Hello,

My name is Alissa J. Zavalianos, and I’m a fantasy storyteller for the young and old at heart. Not only that, but I’m also a wife, a momma (soon to be of two), and most of all, a Bible-believing Christian.

If you’re new to this email, you’re probably here because you entered the Stories That Heal Giveaway. I was one of the authors you decided to follow :)

As promised, here’s your free digital gift (which can also be found on my Substack if you just scroll down), but I’m providing you with a PDF version just in case — a small offering of encouragement to remind you that even on the hardest days, there is hope.

💌 Here’s your free resource:

A Slip Between Thistle And Salt Pdf (2)

390KB ∙ PDF file

Download

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(This a short story about an unlikely encounter between two middle-aged people from two different worlds. Friendship can bloom in the most curious of places.)

For the Writers:

I created a Google Doc called The Story Mapping Worksheet. It’s 10 pages of prompts and empty lines so you can jot down notes and whatnot to help your worldbuilding. And the best part? It’s free! Feel free to download and print it off as a PDF.

However, if you find it’s not enough, I also have a 100+ page version called The Story Mapping Workbook for only $9.99!

You can find both links below:

FREE Story Mapping Worksheet

The Story Mapping Workbook

A little about more about me:

I’ve been writing stories since the 4th grade, but more seriously ever since January of 2020. Since then, I’ve written and published 7 books, with my 8th slotted for release later this year, Lord-willing.

If you’re curious about my books, here is a link that will take you to them all.

Purchase Books Here

Not only that, but I’m an avid reader. My love for literature started around 10 years of age, the catalyst being when I picked up my first Nancy Drew. However, once I discovered Tolkien’s LOTR, I was hooked to the fantasy genre rather quickly. Even though fantasy is my preferred genre (to read and write), I also dabble in writing contemporary short stories and reading a plethora of other genres, too.

As for my personal life, I’m married to the best man I know. As of today, we’ve been happily wed for 7 years. What a gift!

I’m also a momma to the sweetest little girl (I call her Goosie online), and our second child will be arriving at the end of April. We don’t know their gender, but we are excited to meet them when that special day comes.

I’ve had the privilege of knowing Christ my entire life, and I find I’m constantly learning more and more about Him the older I get. Motherhood does that exceptionally well. It strips you bare and reveals all your week points, making you rely oh so much more on the goodness and graciousness of God. And of course, there are immeasurable joys which far outweigh any of the difficult moments in spades. Being a mom is hard, but it is truly the BEST gift. I wouldn’t trade any of it.

This goes without saying, but I’m so glad you’re here. However, if being a part of my Substack doesn’t feel like the right fit, you can unsubscribe anytime. I won’t be offended in the least, honest!

Thank you again for joining the giveaway. I pray this resource meets you where you are and reminds you that you’re never alone.

In Christ,
Alissa

What you can expect from this newsletter:

Hi Everyone
Writing Updates
Current WIP
For the Writers
Now the Surprise!
Cocoa Chats

Hi everyone,

Welcome to my newsletter! I’m so glad you’re here!

There isn’t a whole lot to report, but I will give you the highlights so as not to bore you. But make sure you stick around for something fun at the end.

Writing Updates:

• Edits for book 2 in The Chronicles of Chaera are done! A Sun Fading, A Songbird Broken is one step closer to publication. That said, I have final proof edits schedule for May, so hopefully ARCs will be available sometime early summer.

• Cover design is underway! I won’t have anything finalized until summertime, but you can trust that it’s coming along. The two artists I have drawing/painting the artwork are the same who did the first book, and I just know they’re both going to do an amazing job. So excited to share more!

• As to a publication date, I am hoping for some time in the fall. With baby #2 arriving this spring, I want to make sure I can commit to a date, so I will navigate that once the little one gets here.

If you’re curious about my books, here is a link that will take you to them all.

Purchase Books Here

Current WIP:

It’s too soon to divulge just yet, but since book 3 in my series is currently set aside for the time being (I promise I will finish it soon!), I have started to dream up a new project. It’s unlike anything I’ve written before, and I think that’s what my brain needs in this stage of third-trimester pregnancy. Just know it is still fantasy, but it’s a slower-paced, character-driven tale rather than an adventure. However, you can still expect my epic fantasy world-building in there because it’s just too fun to do without. I will be sure to share more when the time is right, but for now, this story is mine to enjoy :)

For the Writers:

I created a Google Doc called The Story Mapping Worksheet. It’s 10 pages of prompts and empty lines so you can jot down notes and whatnot to help your worldbuilding. And the best part? It’s free! Feel free to download and print it off as a PDF.

However, if you find it’s not enough, I also have a 100+ page version called The Story Mapping Workbook for only $9.99!

You can find both links below:

FREE Story Mapping Worksheet

The Story Mapping Workbook

Now the surprise!

For the Days That Feel Heavy — Hope & Free Gifts Inside

Some stories entertain us.
Others help us survive.

If you’ve been carrying anxiety, sadness, burnout, or questions about faith, especially the kind that don’t have easy answers, this is for you.

I’ve teamed up with a group of authors (fiction and nonfiction) to create something gentle, honest, and hope-filled, and I’d love to invite you in.

💛 The Stories That Heal Giveaway is a 4-day experience designed to offer encouragement, reflection, and practical tools through fiction and nonfiction stories because sometimes healing comes through words that feel like they understand you.

Here’s what’s included:

📚 A chance to win the Grand Prize
– A $250 Amazon gift card
– Copies of powerful books written to meet readers in hard places
– The Complete Stories That Heal Digital Resource Pack

💻 The Stories That Heal Digital Resource Pack (free for every participant!)
This includes devotionals, reflective exercises, creative prompts, and other healing-centered resources from each contributor — delivered straight to your inbox.

✨ And as a bonus, all participants will also receive an exclusive Zoom panel invitation, where we’ll talk honestly about faith, mental health, and the stories that shape us, with space for live Q&A.

👉 Enter the giveaway here:

Enter Here

No pressure. No pretending. Just an invitation to receive something steady and true.

Your story matters. Healing doesn’t have to be rushed. And you don’t have to carry everything alone.

With love,
Your Friend Alissa

P.S. For the Skimmers: Just in case you missed it earlier, here’s the link again:

The link one more time

IMPORTANT! The Stories That Heal Giveaway runs March 9–12, 2026. Winners will be selected via KingSumo and notified on March 13, 2026. This giveaway is not sponsored or endorsed by Instagram or Amazon. By entering, you agree to receive emails from the contributing authors; you may unsubscribe at any time. No purchase necessary. Void where prohibited. Open to U.S. residents, 21+. All entries must be confirmed through KingSumo to be valid. Thank you for being here. 🤍

Cocoa Chats

For those of you who always ask me how you can support me… If you don’t want to purchase my books (or you already have & need more ideas), I have a little link here.
No obligation, but I figured I’d leave it anyway.
Grateful for you regardless!

Buy Me a Hot Cocoa :)

Thank you all for reading this email! I hope it finds you well :)
Be sure to stick around for future updates, too!

Subscribe now

Frederick Bannks finished curing the slab of king salmon on the table in front of him, rubbing the mixture of salt and sugar into the pink fillet. He grabbed a sheet of butcher paper and wrapped the fish carefully, tying it together with a piece of brown twine.

He sighed. It was the ending of a long day, which meant the sun had long-since set by now. The curse of mid-winter: another night walking home in the dark.

“You mind closing up, Freddie? It’s the wife’s birthday,” his coworker, Louis, called over to him. The man was practically out the door already, with his coat buttoned up to his neck and his hand on the knob. They were the only two working today’s shift at The Butcher Baank, but it was Louis’ turn to lock up for the night. Apparently he had somewhere else to be.

I wasn’t planning on it. “Sure.”

“You’re a real chum. She’d have my neck otherwise.” Louis tipped his head and donned his hat before exiting out into the inclement weather.

Frederick hadn’t glanced outside much. Apparently it was snowing. “Don’t mention it—”

The door slammed shut on his words, leaving him alone.

On second thought, good riddance. One look around the shop, however, indicated that Louis at least had the decency to take care of his station before departing, which meant all Frederick really had to do was lock the door. He swallowed his unkind thoughts and went to work on his post, washing away dried blood, cleaning knives, and storing the salts in their proper locations. He hung up his dirty apron next to the crisp one he’d don tomorrow, and pocketed the remaining twine in his pants to put in the backroom before he left.

His gaze snagged on the wall, as it did most nights, and he paused, staring at the plaque with his teenage face plastered on it. He didn’t have to read it, the words were engraved in his brain at this point, but he did anyway. Frederick Jon Bannks. Employee of the month. 1976. Like father, like son. That was over twenty years ago. He was forty now, which meant he’d been working here ever since he graduated high school. He went into the trade like his father before him—it was his business after all—and he’d never looked back. Though sometimes he wished he had.

Could I have done something better with my life? Maybe then he’d have someone to run home to like Louis and his other coworkers.

He shook his head and carried about his business.

This wasn’t the first time he was asked to cover someone’s shift, and it wouldn’t be the last. Thankfully the process was rather quick, and in less than ten minutes, he had the whole place shining. Reset for another morning.

Frederick grabbed his coat, cut the lights, and locked the door before stepping out into the quiet street. All he could hear was stillness, the snow a silent barrier between him and the rest of the world. His shoulders relaxed. He always loved the snow, especially in a small town that gave way to too much chatter and gossip.

On nights like this, he almost wished the walk to his apartment was longer. But seeing as he’d worn his best boots and sturdiest jacket this morning, maybe a detour was in order. It wasn’t often the rest of the town was keen on a nightly stroll, which boded well for him.

Maybe I actually pity Louis. To run off so quickly and not enjoy some solitude… The man was missing out.

Frederick took his usual route through the town and only paused for a moment when his side street showed up on his right. He tipped his head in acknowledgement, as if his home would notice, and continued onward, passing through the busier section of town before he entered the park, his ultimate destination.

Various shops lined the main road. Typically he avoided this street, only venturing into the throng for a cup of black coffee at Diane’s Roasters, but again, the night was as silent as the snow. Anyone passing by had heads angled toward their feet, their steps brisk and their words few. It was bliss.

Frederick passed a bookshop, the florist, a diner, and various other stores and shops before the gates of the welcoming park finally greeted him.

Christmas had come and gone, and with it most of the lights strung about to celebrate the holiday. But there were still a few white ones twinkling in the park’s evergreens, as if forgotten or left behind by someone still wanting to hang onto the season.

Frederick didn’t mind. The moon was weak tonight, so the additional lights were a nice touch.

He slid through the gate, the iron squeaking its greeting, and carried on.

Clumps of snow gathered on the tops of his boots with each step forward, and it didn’t take long for monotony to take hold, his mind wandering into thoughts of what could have been. The plaque back at the butcher shop came to mind. Louis’ freedom and married life.

Why haven’t I married? He’d asked himself this same question at least once a day. But it all came back to time. He wasn’t just employee of the month all those years ago, he was now the manager. He had too much on his plate, and if he was honest, he couldn’t stand being around people most days. He dealt with them enough at work, and the idea of being surrounded by a needy wife and wily children…

He shook his head.

Frederick wasn’t convinced that was sound enough reasoning. It was only the constant complaints from those he interacted with on a daily basis which painted marriage in a negative light. Maybe aside from Louis. Still, perhaps it was better than what Frederick feared. Worth it, even. But even his parents’ relationship wasn’t anything to marvel at.

His father worked late nights, as was customary, and his mother was left home with the children. Whenever a nanny was called, she’d go out with friends, and their father would do the same. In fact, Frederick couldn’t recall a time where all five of them had been together without tears or terse words. Christmas was maybe one of the few holidays where laughter was given more than chastisement.

As to his siblings, well, they either married later in life or moved away to be rid of the place they called their childhood home. But for some reason, Frederick stayed. He always stayed.

He heaved a sigh and slowed his gait, finally looking up. The snow pebbled across his skin, dotting his cheeks and forehead, reminding him he was alive. It was a welcome feeling, this cold, bringing with it a sense of life and renewal. He’d stay out here for hours if only—

Sobbing entered the solace around him, catching him off guard.

Just my luck.

Frederick looked around, trying to find the source of the crying. He couldn’t place its location, but there…he saw a shadow only a little distance away. Someone stood in the adjoining cemetery, clearly having an emotional breakdown. His first instinct was to leave them alone. He wasn’t privy to someone’s grief, and the last thing he wanted was to invite himself into it.

But then the person stumbled, falling in the snow, and the sobs only got louder.

Dash it.

It was a woman’s cry. Loathe as he was to talk to people, Frederick’s one weakness was hearing people suffer. He’d do anything to put an end to it and see it resolved as soon as possible, and seeing as the snow was only getting heavier, this didn’t bode well.

Frederick sucked in a breath and made the short trek over to the small cemetery, preparing himself for the worst. What he saw nearly stilled him in his tracks, making him want to turn the other way.

It was a woman, that much was certain, but she hadn’t fallen like he’d thought. She was on her knees, attempting to place a bouquet of flowers on someone’s grave. She was crying—yes—but she wasn’t in distress like he’d assumed; she was only paying her respects, and he was intruding like he’d feared.

Backing away so as not to be seen, he stilled when a meek voice called out to him.

“Are ye here tae visit a loved one, too?”

He turned to face the woman once more. He was surprised to hear she had a slight accent.

“If so, please. Dinnae let me stop ye. I was just havin’ a moment.”

And it was Scottish, if he guessed correctly.

Frederick observed the kneeling figure. She wore a plaid scarf over her hair, her coat buttoned up to her throat to fend off the cold. Her fingers donned a thin pair of matching gloves, and she looked like she wore some sort of ankle boots beneath a long, flowing skirt. She appeared warm enough, though he couldn’t help thinking pants would have been a more suitable option in this weather. But who was he to comment on a grieving woman’s wardrobe?

“Actually, I was just passing by,” Frederick finally found his tongue. He wouldn’t linger any longer.

“Would ye like tae meet him?” the woman asked.

Frederick swallowed. Meet who? He eyed the grave and felt himself stiffen. It was hard to meet someone who was dead. But wasn’t it disrespectful to turn down an invitation to meet someone’s loved one…especially if they weren’t able to speak for themselves?

He nodded. “Sure.” He opened the small gate which led to the connecting cemetery and tramped through the amassing snow. The woman was still kneeling as if she didn’t have a care in the world that her skirt was most likely soaked through to her skin.

“His name’s Sam.” She pointed at the headstone. “He worked in the naval ship yard in town. Was a fisherman by trade. He always seemed tae know the best spots tae find the biggest catch.” She sighed, wiping at her cheeks. “He was a loving father tae three wonderful daughters. He was their entire world. He loved everyone he met with a force tha’ rivaled the sea he combatted every day. He was home.”

Something inside Frederick cracked at her admission. “He sounds like an upstanding fellow.”

The woman nodded. “He was the best.”

“How did you know him?” Frederick already guessed, but it was better to ask all the same.

“He was ma husband. The love of ma life.”

Frederick assumed correctly, but it still rendered him speechless. It was rare for him to hear such unbridled praise, especially over one’s spouse. But maybe death had a way of erasing the mind of one’s faults, only bringing to recollection the good. “I’m terribly sorry.”

The woman met his gaze and nodded. “Thank ye.” She turned to face the grave once again. “We met back in Scotland, married young, an’ moved here tae America where work was better. Together fo’ fifteen years, three kids later, an’ a lifetime ahead of us.” She shook her head. “It’s been three years since he passed, and no’ a day goes by where I dinnae miss him. Where we all dinnae miss him. But grief is worth it, if tha’ makes sense.”

Now Frederick was truly stunned. Was the cold affecting this woman more than he realized? “How so?” He was too curious not to ask.

“It means ye had something worth holdin’ onto. An’ when it fled, it left a hole. Tae grieve is a gift because it allows ye tae love so hard in the first place. Our marriage wasnae perfect by any means, but it was ours, give’n tae us by the good Lord. An’ we kept an’ cultivated it like the flowers. Like the thistle fields back home.”

Frederick’s chest tightened by some unknown constriction. He’d lost both his parents a few years ago, but he hadn’t felt this depth of loss. Sure it was sad, but life moved on. Grief did, too, in his experience. But maybe it looked different for everyone. He wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced this kind of pain before, and the shock of it overwhelmed him.

He stuffed his hands inside his pockets as if to feign nonchalance, but only found his attempts wavering. There inside his trousers was the twine he’d forgotten to put back before closing up the butcher shop. It was a tangible reminder of all that he had, but more importantly, what he had not. It was mocking him, as surely as his lack of depth was doing so now.

“I dinnae mean tae bore ye with tales o’ woe,” she said.

Frederick was a fool. He hardly knew what to say. “On the contrary, I found your story very inspiring.”

“Is tha’ so?” The woman smiled again. “Am glad. It does a person good tae be reminded of the beauty of endearing love. Tha’ way ye can only add tae it. Ye have a lovely lass back home, do ye no’?”

Frederick’s throat went dry. But he didn’t feel like lying to this vulnerable woman, who had so openly poured forth her very soul. “I don’t.” The words came out hoarse, but maybe he could blame it on the cold. I don’t, but I wish I did.

The woman frowned. “Then am sorry. For it means ye have a loss, too.”

Yes, but a very different one from yours. How can someone lose what they never had?

“What’s yer name?” the woman asked.

“Frederick. Frederick Baanks. I work the butcher shop in New Elms. What is yours?”

“Elsie Bell. I work at the florist shop in town, too.” She extended her hand to shake, but seemed to think better of it when a gust of wind blew her flowers all over her husband’s grave, scattering them across the freshly fallen snow.

“Here, let me help.” Frederick retrieved the castaway flowers that had blown a gravesite over, and felt a pinch on one of his fingers. He sucked the skin and tasted blood. Eyeing the flower closer, he should have paid more attention to what part of the plant he’d picked up.

“Ye musta’ pricked yer finger on one of tae thistles. Am right sorry. They are beautiful, but they are sharp.” She grimaced in apology.

Frederick shook his head. “It’s no problem.” He brought the rogue flowers to Elsie and placed them in her gloved hand.

She took them with a look of gratitude, then bit her lip and she frowned once again at the grave. “Seems ma mind has been elsewhere these days. Some florist I am when I forgot tae bring string tae tie them down.”

Frederick chuckled at the irony. His hands found his pockets once again, and stilled. What Divine Intervention in this? It’s not like Frederick wasn’t a believing man. He knew God, it’s just sometimes he forgot that an almighty being cared enough to care about someone like him. His parents hadn’t done a good job of reminding him of that. But here Frederick was now, with an offering to a grieving widow from a job he didn’t count as joy.

God cared, if not for him necessarily, then definitely for Elsie.

But if for Elsie, then why not for him, too?

Frederick pulled out the twine and held it up to her. “Some butcher I am for bringing packing twine with me instead of leaving it behind where it belongs.”

Elsie’s smile beamed. “Yer a Godsend, Fred’rick!”

It was as if someone lit a flame inside his chest. No one had ever called him that before, not unless he was covering shifts for people at the shop. Especially not a woman who owed him nothing.

“Here.” He unraveled some of the twine and used the pocket knife he always carried on his person to cut a piece of string. Once finished, he handed it over and watched her fingers go to work, trying up the bouquet like the experienced florist she was.

But one glance at the bundle had him shaking his head. It wouldn’t hold up under these conditions. Sure the flowers would all be together now, but what good was that if they were still buried in the snow?

Frederick searched the ground for a stick. Finding one at the base of a nearby elm, he returned to the grave and started pushing it down through the white powder, shimmying the object until he was confident it at least pierced the first layer of earth below.

“May I?” He held out his hand, and nodded once Elsie entrusted the flowers into his care. He cut another slip of twine and secured the bouquet around the stick’s base, using it like a brace so the flowers would stand tall despite the elements. He wasn’t sure how long it would last, but it was better than the alternative.

“It’s perfect, Fred’rick!” Elsie clapped her hands together once and knelt down, fluffing out the petals so they appeared fuller than before. One of the thistles which had poked Frederick remained front and center, and he watched as Elsie ran her thumb over one of its leaves, uttering what sounded like a small prayer. Then she turned to him, her eyes bright and glossy. “Thank ye. I donnae know whit I wuid hev done if no’ fo’ ye.” Her accent came out thicker now as if to mimic her emotions. She reached out and grabbed his bare hand, squeezing it softly. “Yer a ready friend, Fred’rick. An’ we’ve only just met.”

Frederick paused, looking down at their clasped hands and then back up to her face. He had no right to observe her the way he was, noting her strong nose and dimples, but he found he couldn’t look away. She was radiant in the moonlight, her mournful story and apparent joy despite the pain was something which made her exceptional. He found he wanted to get to know her, if not for anything more than to experience the same outlook on life that she had.

He craved it. Desired to feel as deeply as she did.

“A friend. I like the sound of that.” He squeezed her hand back and found that he meant every word.

The two continued to sit side by side in the snow with hands still clasped, Elsie regaling tales of her husband, and Frederick listening as long as she needed him to. He found he couldn’t get enough of her stories and the way her tone softened whenever she mentioned Sam.

Oh to love and be loved like that.

It was growing late, but he found he didn’t care.

Someone needed him tonight. He found he also needed someone, too.

Eventually, Elsie stood and Frederick followed suit. They were both soaked through to the knees, but the warmth of the memories and their newfound friendship was enough to keep Frederick’s spirits light.

“Thank ye again fo’ listenin’. Fo’ bein’ here with me,” Elsie said, placing her hands in her pockets.

“It was my pleasure.” Truly. Frederick couldn’t remember a time where he’d ever felt more alive.

“Where are ye off tae now, Fred’rick? Home, I imagine?” she asked.

He nodded but found he didn’t want to leave just yet. “Actually, can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Elsie smiled at him, her dimples little moons reflecting the one above them. “As long as it’s decaf. I need tae sleep tonight.”

Frederick chuckled. “Decaf it is.” He offered her his arm and she took it, the two leaving the cemetery beneath the waxing crescent and twinkling lights in the trees.

Frederick didn’t know where life would take him next, but he found he didn’t mind. He had a new friend, and maybe given some time, it would become even a dear friend.

But he wasn’t in any rush. He was a student, learning to soak up what it meant to live a life worth keeping. Worth celebrating, should he pass away too soon like the beloved Sam Bell.

Maybe even one day Frederick could have a legacy of his own with a loved one by his side. Something more than salt to his name, as important as the twine to keep thistles from falling in the snow.

It was enough to finally open up his heart to the possibility.

It was a start.

*This story is only edited by me & hasn’t undergone professional edits. If you see typos, just ignore them. Thank you!

Hi everyone & welcome to my new newsletter,

It’s been a long time coming, but I’m finally going to make the switch. If you’ve been following along for a while now, you’ll know I’m reluctant to get new newsletter subscribers due to Mailchimp’s 500 max follower count or else you have to pay for a subscription. And it’s not worth it, considering how I don’t write newsletters anymore.

BUT, my 2026 goal, as if right now, is to keep you all in the loop more, and what better place than to create a Substack where you get all my musings but in a much less overstimulating format. YAY! (Already, I can tell that I love Substack and will be enjoying posting on here more often.)

Thank you for being here. Truly. This is only a short introduction email as I don’t expect to bombard you, but if you like random thoughts, writing & reading updates, maybe some life updates scattered in, and definitely some short stories should a random burst of creativity strike, then please subscribe!

I will be sending along a short story for all my new subscribers shortly! Stay tuned & keep checking your inboxes!

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
² He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
³ He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.

⁴ Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.