Disasters in a Jar - Book 5 - Ella’s Queen Anne

Sample Chapter

Ella’s boots crunched through the brittle leaves carpeting the driveway as she made her way to the car, the crisp autumn air nipping at her cheeks. Turning back, she paused at the threshold of her Queen Anne home, letting her gaze linger on the gabled windows and intricate gingerbread trim. The house had stood here for over a century, a testament to generations that weathered storms and economic downturns. Yet now, it seemed to shrink against what she feared was coming. Typically, she would already have bright orange pumpkins near the doorway and a festive wreath of twisted cornstalks hanging over the leaded glass panes of the solid oak entrance.

The news on the radio had become a blur of grim updates: grocery store shelves stripped bare, fuel prices soaring, and roads leading out of town blocked with vehicles. Port Townsend, Washington—once a serene, artistic community—was now brimming with fear and uncertainty. Every whisper, every sideways glance hinted at something far more sinister lurking beneath the surface of the reported supply chain collapse.

Ella glanced back at her home—a place that had been a haven ever since she inherited it from her grandmother. The loss of her husband, Daniel, to cancer two years ago had turned the once-bright rooms into silent echoes of what used to be. But the house, with its resilient frame and old-world charm, had been her anchor. And now, she was determined to protect it, no matter what.

The town’s general store, a humble fixture on Lawrence Street, was barely recognizable. Neatly arranged shelves of preserves and household goods were now just barren planks of wood and metal. The stale air and desperation hung thick—a sharp contrast to the welcoming warmth it once offered.

As Ella weaved through the aisles, her eyes skimmed the remnants—overturned boxes, dented cans, and stray packages ripped open in haste. Faces she’d known for years now wore masks of exhaustion and worry. The usually friendly greetings were replaced by curt nods or avoidant stares. An old man she’d seen weekly for the past decade edged around her without making eye contact, gripping the last bag of flour as if it were gold.

“Ella!” The familiar voice of Mabel cut through the silence. Ella turned to see her old friend standing near the checkout counter, clutching a half-empty box of crackers. Beside her, Jackson, Mabel’s teenage son, fidgeted with his coat zipper, his eyes wide and restless. “I didn’t think you’d come out today.”

“Had to,” Ella replied, managing a small smile. “Running low on everything. Thought I’d try my luck.”

Mabel’s gaze swept over the barren shelves. “There’s not much left. It’s crazy out there, Ella. Someone broke into the townhouse next door to us last night. No one was home, but they took everything. People are talking about roadblocks and more rationing. Some folks are already packing up, saying they’ll head inland.”

“Inland to what?” Ella’s voice came out sharper than intended. “There’s nowhere to go. Not with rationed fuel and the ferries shut down.”

Mabel stepped closer, lowering her voice. “There’s talk… that this isn’t just a supply chain issue. People are saying it’s going to get a whole lot worse.”

Ella’s grip tightened on the empty shopping basket. She wanted to dismiss it as fearmongering, but deep down, she knew something was different this time. Something beyond the ordinary disruptions and shortages. It felt like a quiet unraveling—threads pulling apart with each passing day.

After half an hour of scrounging through the scarce offerings, Ella managed to secure a few cans of beans, a small sack of corn flour, and a bottle of red wine vinegar. It wasn’t nearly enough to last through the month, but it would have to do. The drive home was unsettlingly quiet, the twilight casting long, skeletal shadows across the deserted streets. The town, shrouded in muted hues of gray and gold, felt like a sad memory of former days.

Pulling into her driveway, Ella sat for a moment, the engine idling softly. A gust of wind swept across the yard, sending a cascade of mustard-colored leaves spiraling through the air. She watched them dance and scatter—a fleeting reminder of how quickly things could change. With a sigh, she turned off the engine and stepped out, her breath clouding in the cold evening air...