I love that vision—an anthology-style cozy mystery with heart, faith, and quiet discovery. Think Mitford meets Miss Marple, but every clue feels like a whisper from God, a nudge toward healing, and each mystery is a “bit” that reveals something deeper.
Here’s a first scene of Stitched in Silence, written to reflect that gentle, atmospheric start. This one sets the tone for both the weekly creative challenge and the first tiny mystery Ellie stumbles into.
Chapter One: The First Stitch
The attic smelled like dust, lavender sachets, and forgotten things.
Ellie Whitman pressed her palm against the rough edge of a wooden trunk, squinting in the dim afternoon light that filtered through the high arched windows of the Wander’s Hollow Library. The heat had risen with her up the narrow staircase, clinging to her skin like a memory she hadn’t invited but couldn’t quite shake.
Somehow, this was where she’d ended up. On the first Monday of the “Level Up at the Library” summer creativity challenge. Technically, she was supposed to be downstairs at the big round table with the others, sharing the one thing she wanted to finish this summer. Everyone else had brought sketchbooks or novels-in-progress or perfectly organized bullet journals.
Ellie had brought silence.
And her mother’s half-finished cross-stitch sampler, folded into a sandwich bag, the edges frayed and knotted.
It had felt like too much to explain.
So when Miss Marvy, the retired librarian-turned-“Creative Cheerleader,” asked for help retrieving old supplies from the attic, Ellie volunteered.
Maybe she just wanted to hide.
Or maybe… she was following a thread.
She knelt beside the trunk, coughing once as the dust lifted in a gentle poof. The lid creaked open on reluctant hinges. Inside: fabric swatches, a few rusted tins of buttons, hymnals with curling edges. At the very bottom, nestled like a secret, was a small canvas bag.
She lifted it.
It was hand-stitched. Creamy linen, pale blue border. Cross-stitch roses, simple and delicate, framed a single line in careful needlework:
“Bit by Bit, We Mend.”
Ellie’s breath caught. She recognized the design—it was one of hers. From before. She’d uploaded it to her blog years ago, back when she still shared free devotionals and patterns under the name Create This Faith.
But she’d never stitched this one herself.
She turned the bag over.
Inside was a journal. Faded floral fabric on the outside, with stitched initials: T.C.
She opened it gently. In flowing cursive across the first page:
“For the Thread Circle. When silence is heavy, let the stitches speak.”
And tucked just behind that—was a square of stiff aida cloth, 10x10 stitches, no more than an inch across. Just a single letter in red thread:
“L”
Ellie sat back on her heels, heart thudding.
She didn’t know what this was exactly.
But she suddenly knew one thing.
She wasn’t just here to finish her mother’s sampler.
She was meant to finish something else too.
Something someone started long ago…
Something left behind in silence.
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