Author: Erica Drayton Writes

  • My Growing Tarot Collection

    2024 Edition

    Nearly 1 year ago I shared with all of you my vast collection of Tarot Decks and it turns out I’ve been pretty busy this year, backing even more decks through Kickstarter. I really need to stay away from Kickstarter because I spend way too much money whenever I browse!

    Anyway, in 2024 it turns out I have quite a new collection of decks coming by way that I want to share before I even get them in-hand. Once I have them I will be sure to update my Tarot Deck Collection post and I think I might even make a dedicated page for my many Tarot Decks on my website once I unbox them all. Alas, since my move I have yet to open all of my book boxes and my decks are spread out among my 100+ book boxes! 👀

    All of these collections are expected to be delivered this year and are all backed from Kickstarter. There are three decks I’m really excited about and if I can I hope to use all of them this year to help me write my 100 word stories.

    All of these Kickstarters have ended but I will leave a link to their campaign page in case you want to check them out:

    In order from soonest to later in the year, based on expected delivery date.

    The Alleyway Oracles | March 2024 (late)

    The Alleyman returns with THREE brand new decks as one-time printings: the Alleyway Tarot, Oracle of Secrets, and Oracle of Play.

    I am getting all three decks.


    Tarot Emblemata – Chromata | March 2024 (late)

    A magical & mystical deck of Renaissance Emblems in beautiful colors, 88-cards and a Guidebook interpreting the Tarot archetypes & symbolism.

    I backed their Tarot Emblemata deck last year but this deck should be different. I have yet to use these for my 100 word stories but I’m hoping to get around to them in the coming years as I have other, more interesting decks worth exploring first.


    Dead Man’s Hand (deck of cards) | May 2024

    The ideal pirate themed playing cards deck to pass the time while plundering the Seven Seas.

    I love pirates! That’s all I have to say. So it was obvious that I would snatch this deck right away.


    Rhythm & Soul Tarot | July 2024

    A Must for Music Lovers: an Illustrated Tarot Deck & Playing Cards Celebrating American Music đŸŽ¶đŸŽž.

    I am just getting the Tarot Deck and this one I am most excited for. I’m only sharing the image of the box it will come in because I don’t want to give away the amazing illustrations of the cards just yet. I will definitely be taking time this year to use this deck as inspiration for my 100 word stories. If you can’t wait for me to share what the cards will look like, by all means click the link for yourself and be amazed.


    Steamboat Arcana 1928 | November 2024

    Embark on a journey with Steamboat Arcana, two 78-card tarot decks celebrating the timeless magic of the world’s favorite mouse.

    The moment Steamboat Willie entered the public domain there have been many iterations of his likeness everywhere. But I have found none quite as exciting to get my hands on as this deck. There are two options but I’m getting the classic. And yes, I am wicked excited for this deck! I wish I didn’t have to wait till November to get it!


    Bard’s Arcana | December 2024

    The Tarot of Shakespeare.

    The simplest of explanations for what it is and yet of all my Kickstarters it is the one that is taking nearly two years to get sent to me. I backed this last year and I’m on pins and needles waiting for it. I know it’s going to be something to behold and I have slots in January 2025 waiting for me to write these 100 word stories for the entire deck!


    DO YOU COLLECT TAROT DECKS?

    My fascination (and appreciation) for the Tarot comes from my mom who read Tarot and practiced witchcraft for much of her adult life. She wasn’t like as deeply practicing it as others but I have fond memories of watching her read cards for close friends and taking trips to people’s homes when I was little just so she could read their cards.

    Now I look upon them as inspiration for storytelling. Each deck is so unique and different. All waiting for a story to be told through them.

    Altogether I have 15 decks. I’m including my mothers deck which is the normal Tarot deck, not pictured anywhere.
  • Willow Weeps | A 100 Word Story

    #345 National Poetry Month – 30 Days 30 Poems

    She pressed her hand upon the tree
    And listened to it carefully.
    It spoke of sadness and of war,
    It whispered dangers at her door.
    
    The willow weeped for what had been,
    And begged her never to come again.
    There was no saving this great tree
    The time had come to set it free.
    
    The memories of what it had seen
    The people who sat upon the green
    And made their plans for life—for love
    Never noticing the tree above.
    
    It shouted warnings to them all,
    Don’t pretend—or try to be strong.
    That which stands will always fall.

    Learn more about National Poetry Month HERE.

  • Pomroy Means Business – Ms. Pomroy

    EPISODE 10 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

    NOTE FROM THE WRITER:

    You will notice a change of direction in the way this episode is written from the rest. Namely, the POV and perhaps even the time is different from the previous episode. That is because, moving forward, each episode will be told from the POV of a particular character and occasionally that POV might happen earlier than when the previous chapter ended. Case in point, this episode begins with Ms. Pomory making her way to the Hangman’s Theater.

    Apologies if this seems jarring to you, the reader. I intend in going back to the previous episodes and making this key change to the episode POVs so that the story, when complete, will make sense and flow much better.

    TOLD FROM THE POV OF MS. POMROY

    Words = 2,429 | Read Time = 9min 42sec

    The content below was originally paywalled.

    Earlier the Same Night

    “Evening, Ms. Pomroy,” Jones said, bowing as he opened the carriage door. She had the same driver for years now but it changed nothing. Staff were to address her as Ms. Pomroy and she would see to it that they remained employed, thereby taken care of. 

    “Hangman’s Theater, Jones. And see to it you get me there in one piece this time. Last time we went out in the evening I thought I could barely keep my food down.”

    She was right to reprimand Jones. He was rather preoccupied by his older brother who returned unexpectedly, looking for money. Lucky for Jones their journey wasn’t very far, otherwise, an upset stomach might’ve been the least of her troubles.

    Jones slammed the door behind her and climbed up onto his seat. He grabbed the reins and readied the horses for their journey through lower Wondermere. Inside the carriage, Ms. Pomroy gripped a letter tightly in her hand and read it over and over again, mouthing the words to herself:

    “I know who has the deck. You can’t protect her forever.”

    There was no signature but it wasn’t necessary. Ms. Pomroy knew exactly who sent it. She just hoped she could get to the theater in time.

    When the carriage finally arrived at the Hangman’s Theater, the coachman quickly opened the door for Ms. Pomroy. “You could’ve gone just a little bit faster, Jones.”

    “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, keeping his head bowed.

    “Wait for me around the corner. I won’t be staying for the entire show tonight.” She smiled brightly at the patrons standing outside of the Hangman’s Theater waiting patiently to get inside. Whispers could be heard from the gawkers as they couldn’t believe they were seeing Ms. Pomroy there. She was well known to many as the caretaker of the colosseum. It was also believed that she always maintained an air of neutrality when it came to the acts that performed magic in Wondermere. It just wasn’t her place to dabble in the politics that clearly went on behind the scenes. But she didn’t care who saw her just then or what they were thinking. 

    “Tabby? Uh—I mean
Ms. Pomroy,” Mr. Dingle stammered as he approached her. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”And it was indeed unexpected.

    “You mustn’t appear so flustered. I am merely here to cheer on a close friend that I hear is performing tonight,” Ms. Pomroy said, continuing to hold her smile even though it was hurting her face. She can’t recall ever having to smile this much in her life.

    “Ah, I see,” Mr. Dingle said, furrowing his eyebrows. He was thinking of all the acts on the bill and he couldn’t quite figure out which of them she would be be familiar with let alone so friendly that she’d risk attending a show. “Well, I will make sure you are well taken care of. Only the best for such a
close friend.” He bowed and walked backwards out of her sight and back inside the Hangman’s Theater. She could hear him shouting to an unlucky staff member who happened to be passing by to prepare their best table for an unexpected arrival.

    Once inside Ms. Pomroy quickly looked around. Either she would encounter the person the letter was about or the author of the letter.

    “Ms. Pomroy, it is a pleasure. Are you staying to watch the shows?”

    Ms. Pomroy turned around, surprised to see Jan standing before her. “Jan? If you’re here then
,” she said, stepping forward to lean in and whisper in Jan’s ear so no one could hear her. “Where is she?”

    Jan pulled away and smiled, clasping her hands around Ms. Pomroy’s. “Now, Ms. Pomroy, you know I can’t reveal a magician’s secrets,” she replied loudly, causing those lingering around her to stop and turn. “You’ll just have to be left to wonder like everyone else.” Jan let go of her hands and walked away, putting up the hood of a cloak she wore and leaving Ms. Pomroy to contend with more gawkers shocked to see her there. 

    Ms. Pomroy was hoping to go undetected longer but now that would be impossible. She silently cursed Jan for setting her up and wondered why she did it. There was nothing left for Ms. Pomroy to do but smile at the many patrons around her as she made her way into the main room where the stage was to find her seat.

    It seemed her table was yet to be brought out from the back so she was forced to stand around while others entered and took their seats at various round tables. 

    The Hangman’s Theater wasn’t designed like most other theaters. They made their money from the food and drinks offered so while others had no tables to sit at and instead tried to cram as many patrons through the doors, making money from the cost of entry, the Hangman required reservations and assigned seating. A much more civilized affair indeed. In truth, Ms. Pomroy wished all theaters were this way. She couldn’t abide the idea of people pressed up against each other for an extended period of time and had this chance encounter needed to happen at another theater she likely would not have attempted such a meeting.

    “Tabby Pomroy? What brings you here?”

    The Great Davoren. Or, as Ms. Pomroy affectionately thought of him, ‘the famous arse.’ She put on as fake a smile as she could easily muster and extended a hand for him to shake. “I heard you would be here. You must be honored to have been invited by the king to give an opinion on a potential act for this years event?”

    In truth, Ms. Pomroy was less interested in his answer and more in what she knew was hidden away somewhere on his person. Davoren smiled back. Another strain on another face. The writer of the note she kept concealed on her person.

    “Oh, I am deeply honored. As you know, having favor with the king is what keeps you alive in Wondermere?”

    “Is that so? I thought it was keeping your hands off his daughter. I’ve always wondered why that is. Is she just not your type?”

    “You know me too well, Tabby. What would I want with a woman of brains and beauty? My light burns brightly for you.”

    Tabitha wished she had an equally cruel remark to say back to him and would have done if they weren’t interrupted by Mr. Dingle who saw them speaking and could tell by their body language is clearly was not an pleasant conversation.

    “Great Davoren, sir. Your table is ready. Apologies, Ms. Pomroy, the traffic backstage is immense, as I’m sure you know already. Your table will be out shortly,” Mr. Dingle said, trying to point The Great Davoren away from Tabitha and towards his table.

    “I insist you sit with me as my guest, Tabby,” The Great Davoren said. “And I won’t hear argument against it.”

    Tabitha returned the smile but even Mr. Dingle could tell she much rather drink a tall glass of nails. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said, and hooked her hand in his arm so he could walk her to his table. 

    When their backs were to him, Mr. Dingle crossed himself and looked up to the heavens in prayer that the night would not go as horribly as he was already predicting.

    Davoren pulled out a chair for Tabitha and she sat, rather hesitantly. She didn’t put it past him to pull the chair out from under her. From her past experiences dealing with him, she knew he was never to be trusted.

    Before Davoren could sit down next to her someone come up to him and whispered in his ear. Tabitha busied herself with a napkin, pretending not to notice, all the while straining to catch what was being said.

    “
are you sure?” Was all she managed to catch from Davoren before the person speaking to him nodded. He turned and smiled down at Tabitha. “If you will excuse me. I have some urgent business I must attend to before the show begins.”

    A true gentleman would’ve bowed or at least waited for the lady to acknowledge their departure from the table, but Davoren was no gentleman. He was gone before Tabitha could press him for information.

    While Tabitha waited for the show to begin she fielded the occasional hello from those who past by her table. It was highly unusual for her to be there and although she would’ve preferred no one know she was there so as not to arouse suspicion that something was going on, she thought perhaps she could use this level of attention to her advantage. 

    Davoren returned, looking a bit rough around the edges and sat down gruffly at the table, forgetting that Tabitha was there. The person who whispered in his ear earlier joined him and sat to his right, only managing a small smile at Tabitha.

    “Everything alright, David?” Tabitha asked. She knew calling him by his real name instead of his stage name in public would only make him angrier than he already was.

    He turned to her, daggers in his eyes, and smiled, though Tabitha could feel him eyeing her neck to wring it. “Oh, of course. Everything is just fine. And I’ll kindly remind you never to call me by that name in public. I’m surprised at you, Tabitha. I expect better from you.”

    “Temper. Temper. Wouldn’t want your fans see you so upset, now would we,” Tabitha said, then leaned over to whisper, “I got your little note. I won’t be threatened by you or anybody.”

    Davoren was about to respond when the lights suddenly went out and the host came out on the stage and a spotlight was shone on him. With the show about to begin, Tabitha acted quickly. She knew she only had minutes to retrieve the notebook and make a quick escape. She sat very still beside Davoren and just moved her eyes, trying not to move her head too much, as she could see out the corner of her eye that the person sitting on the other side of Davoren was eyeing her suspiciously.

    Tabitha managed to look down and could see, tucked inside Davoren’s unbuttoned shirt, a notebook. She guessed it must be the codex. What else could it be? But how she was going to get it from him without his noticing was going to be the hard part.

    The curtains on the stage opened to reveal the first act. The house lights remained off, and only the stage was illuminated. She turned her head away from Davoren and his other guest and caught a sight of someone she recognized who was watching the act from just off stage. She furrowed her eyebrows and ran through her mind the many familiar faces she knew to try and pinpoint who she had just seen. When she looked back they were out of sight.

    She needed a distraction. Something that would give her enough time to take it and then leave in the chaos. Mr. Dingle wouldn’t appreciate that sort of distraction on such an important day for him and his theater, but sacrifices had to be made. She was sure she could explain and make it up to him later. While the magician was deep into their magic trick, Tabitha took that opportunity to slip away from the table. She looked back only once to make sure no one had noticed. Not even the person seated next to Davoren, who seemed to be tasked with watching her every moment, seemed not to notice her absence from the table.

    She moved to the far wall and started to make her way towards the back of the hall where she could just make out Mr. Dingle, watching the show as well. She raised her hand to get his attention when the host came on stage to announce the next magic act.

     “Ladies and gentleman. It appears we have a change in tonight’s performance. Maranigan the Magician will be performing
” the host paused and Tabitha could see a bead of sweat on his forehead, “the Vanishing Woman.” The crowd gasped and the host ran offstage.

    Tabitha looked back at Davoren who was already out of his seat, seething with outrage.

    “Damn it,” she whispered trying to get back to her seat, hoping she could intercept him before he was gone but it was too late. By the time she got back to the table, Davoren was gone and the magic act was beginning.

    The Vanishing Woman, everyone knew, was Davoren’s great trick. Every great magician has one that they perform best, leaving the other magicians to wonder how it’s done and try their best to emulate it. Others have tried. All have failed. Tabitha sat and watched, but not at the magic act itself, instead at the magician and his assistants who were helping him.

    She couldn’t help but grin to herself when she realized who were onstage. Especially the oversized female assistant who was about to enter into a box and vanish. 

    When the trick worked and the crowd roared with excitement, Tabitha again rose from her table to follow where she assumed Davoren had scurried off to, backstage. He knew how the trick was supposed to go and probably wanted to see if this act had figured it out.

    Backstage she witnessed what she knew to be an obvious sleight of hand trick. If Davoren had been paying attention he might’ve realized what was just taken from him but he was too busy berating poor Mr. Dingle for the incompetent staff and demanding to be let into a room that obviously led under the stage. Tabitha watched as the woman who vanished and a gentleman walked around a corner and out of sight. 

    “What are you doing back here?” Davoren asked.

    “I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you supposed to be out front watching the acts? Not back here trying to steal their secrets.”

    The host could be heard back on stage about to announce the next act and Tabitha left Davoren behind with Mr. Dingle trying to explain why he needed to return to his seat. “
what might the king think if it got back to him that Davoren wasn’t present for the entire show
”

    Tabitha stood outside a dressing room where she could clearly hear giggles inside. She knocked on the door before letting herself in.

  • Midnight Riders | A 100 Word Story

    #344 National Poetry Month – 30 Days 30 Poems

    The midnight riders use the light of the moon
    To deliver them on wings of doom,
    Across the bridge, through shallow streams,
    They will enter your every dreams.
    
    While you slumber in your beds,
    The midnight riders sneak into your heads.
    Making subtle suggestions about your life,
    Leaving sharp cuts like a knife.
    
    Should you wake before they’re through,
    Take care, for they’ll come after you.
    And make you pay for crimes of sleep,
    All the pain—regrets you’ll keep.
    
    But if you can survive by dawn,
    The midnight riders are all gone,
    Expecting you to live and carry on.

    Learn more about National Poetry Month HERE.

  • The Private Lives of Hannah and Amelia

    A Wondermere Short Story

    This is an idea borne of the fact that there are just so many interesting characters in this world of Wondermere that I created. And I want to be able to tell their story, however briefly. This is my cheeky and greedy way of doing just that. It’s definitely a WIP (work in progress) in that I have no idea if it works or will last. I just wanted to tell you a bit more about Hannah and Amelia, those cooky old ladies who ride in the carriage to work with Charisma and Flossie.

    This is their story.

    The content below was originally paywalled.

    The horses were tired. Hannah was tired. Amelia was hungry. She was always hungry. And as much as the horses and Hannah wanted to stop moving, they knew there would be little sleep to be had if Amelia wasn’t properly fed.

    Hannah and Amelia weren’t exactly best friends so much as their parents were close. They wanted the girls to get along like sisters. It would be another thirty years before that happened. In the meantime, here they were, traveling the countryside together after an even longer journey by ship in search of a man. They had no clue how to find him or even if he would be where they were headed, just that Wondermere and the colosseum was to be their destination. 

    The society were nothing if not cryptic with the information they passed on to newcomers. By rights, Hannah and Amelia were born into the society and shouldn’t have to undergo such a silly task to prove their loyalty, but each of their parents weren’t exactly liked while they were alive and so, before they could claim their rightful place they had to do a small favor for the leader.

    Don’t worry about who the leader is, just yet. I’m sure you’re much more interested in the society. And I’m coming to that. Patience is one of the many rules to abide by in the society and if you expect me to tell you about it, then I’ll expect your patience.

    Now, where was I? Ah, yes, Hannah and Amelia and they’re one horse. They could easily have afforded two horses but Hannah being the oldest, by a day, likes to take the lead and felt they were more than capable of traveling on one horse. Amelia picked her battles wisely. She knew that by letting Hannah win about the way they traveled meant she would get to dictate how often they stopped to eat. And did they ever stop often to eat.

    It’s why a journey that should’ve only taken a couple of days was going on its fifth. 

    The sun will be setting soon and the horse whinnies to get Hannah’s attention. It can smell food in the distance. Amelia was on the horses back while Hannah pulled its reigns. It was faster to ride on the horse together, both of them being of such small size, but occasionally, Hannah preferred to walk. Gave her a chance to think about their next move. Amelia felt this was a waste of her talents as there was very little that would be happening or has happened since they left their homes and therefore time would be spent thinking about nothing. She much rather think, out loud, about where they were headed.

    The society is far reaching and while a large faction of its members currently reside in Wondermere out of necessity, its origins are in a distant place. But that is a tale for another day.

    Look, up ahead! Is that smoke billowing out of a chimney? Why yes, I think this is the part of the story where Hannah and Amelia make their first move. See, Hannah paid attention when they were both briefed on where they were to go, whom they could trust, and what they needed to do when they arrived. Amelia was busy eating at the time. When she heard they were traveling by ship she knew she needed to fill her stomach with as much food as possible. Having never been on a ship before all she knew of it was what she’d heard from her older brother; it’s terrible!

    Unfortunately, all that she consumed found itself overboard within a couple hours after the ship set sail. Their plan to be discreet and undercover was completely blown when everyone pointed and laughed at her every time they walked by them.

    “What’s that I smell?” Amelia said, her mood perking up a bit.

    “We haven’t time, Amelia. We’re almost in upper Wondermere. I promise when we get there I’ll let you eat whatever you want.”

    Amelia eyed Hannah with trepidation. It was a promise she’d made in the past and though she always kept it, the trouble was, the food that was available usually wasn’t any good. Amelia was used to fine dining. Her parents were chefs by day, after all. Too bad she never bothered to learn any of their recipes before they died. She left that part of the family legacy to her brother, opting instead for the other legacy, the one they kept a secret from her for so long.

    “Fine. But this Wondermere better be more than what I’ve heard of it,” Amelia said, throwing her upper body forward to rest her head on the mane of the horse. “I’m bored, Hannah.”

    Hannah rolled her eyes. “You know, if someone were listening to you right now they wouldn’t believe we are both seventeen years old. They would think you were a child since that is how you’ve acted ever since we left. Don’t you care about what we’re doing?”

    “I care. I just don’t think it should ruin a chance to enjoy ourselves, that’s all.”

    Hannah pulled the reigns to a stop. “This is not a game, Amelia. I held your hand all throughout our childhood, looking out for you because I knew that’s what our parents needed. Us to stay out of trouble. But I’m not going to always be there for you, especially if you’re going to behave like this is just a chance for you to try new food. I actually want to join the society. If you don’t, tell me now, before we go any further and we can part ways.”

    Amelia had a decision to make. It was a most difficult too. See, she never really liked Hannah for the very reason that she just outlined. While Amelia was trying to enjoy her childhood, she couldn’t, because all the while, Hannah was there keeping her out of trouble. What Amelia wouldn’t give to get into trouble just once! But Hannah was probably her best and only chance to get into the society. She desperately wanted in. She had to know what was so damn important about it that her parents neglected her all her life. They did more than devote their life to the society, they sacrificed time they could’ve spent with their children as well. Hannah didn’t know it, but Amelia wanted in so that she could hopefully destroy them from the inside out.

    But reader, she doesn’t know something that you and I both already know. Thirty years later and not only did Amelia not follow through on ending the society but she is the leader of it now. I’m getting ahead of myself. 

    “I’m sorry, Hannah. You know me, I act this way because no one ever let me misbehave when I was a child. I can’t help it. We need each other to do this, right?” Hannah knew Amelia needed her and although she hated to admit it, she needed Amelia as well. They shook hands, then Hannah pulled on the reigns for their horse to keep walking.

    It wasn’t long before nightfall hit, but they made it to the first street inside upper Wondermere. This is where the poorer people live. Houses stacked on top of each other. Streets made of cobblestones that aren’t exactly level and covered in dirt and mud from people. They were everywhere. Amelia and Hannah were shocked at how many were out so late at night. Back home it would be quiet at sundown. But not in Wondermere. It seemed the streets were even more vibrant and bustling when the sun set. Amelia’s entire body was buzzing from the sights and sounds and especially the smells. It seemed they happened upon the main road that had pubs on either side for a long stretch. Their first stop was to store their horse at a nearby stable for the night and inquire where they could find Mrs. Pomroy.

    I’m going to stop here in my tale because I must point something out in case you’re wondering. The Pomroy women run the colosseum. Have done ever since it was built. So, anytime you hear mention of the name Pomroy, the best way to keep track of ‘em is to enquire as to the first name. In this case it’s Beatrice Pomroy. You’re probably familiar with her daughter, Tabby Pomroy. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

    Turns out, that although the Pomroy women are responsible for the upkeep and full care of the colosseum they are not afforded a home near their place of work. In fact, they own a piece of land in upper Wondermere and prefer it that way. It is nearly as large as the land the colosseum and the ruling family occupy but no one has ever questioned why though many a king has tried, and failed, to claim ownership.

    It meant the journey for Hannah and Amelia was much shorter than they anticipated once they found a place to keep their horse. The stable master pointed out the tallest building in the upper Wondermere.

    “That there is the Pomroy Estate. You can’t miss it.” The only home that seemed to have its own turret with a flame that shot out the top, a beacon for the lost and weary traveler. The Pomroy’s were always known for the hospitality to strangers as they knew they had far more than anyone in upper Windermere and were not about to ever keep it for themselves. So, it was not unusual to have strangers looking for the Pomroy’s.

    “I hope this, Mrs. Pomroy is a good cook. I’m famished,” Amelia said, wrapping her favorite shawl around her shoulders to keep her warm from the chill in the air. Winter was on its way and although the mornings were filled with sunlight, the evenings saw a drastic drop in temperature. Hannah loved the cold and embraced it as a way to stay awake and alert. While they were told to trust Mrs. Pomroy, they were given opposite advice about the rest of upper Wondermere and the people who reside there. 

    Amelia’s feet started to hurt the closer they got to the large house and her gait changed as she walked. She started to hunch and her knees wobbled as she walked. Hannah walked a step behind Amelia and rolled her eyes. She was used to Amelia’s tendency to over exaggerate her ailments of which she rarely suffered as much as she let on.

    They both saw the large wooden sign swinging high above the ground over an archway. A wrought iron fence stretched on either side, farther than they could see and eventually turned a corner till they met again someone in the distance, forming an oddly shaped rectangle along the borders of its property.

    The gates were open and the house in the distance seemed alive with light emanating from its many windows on all three floors. They could see shadows and lots of movement happening inside and wondered if they had arrived during a party. Amelia loved parties and her back suddenly straightened. She smoothed the front of her dress and ran her fingers through her hair. It didn’t do much to change her appearance which was that of a woman who had just traveled halfway round the world without a days rest, but Hannah hadn’t the heart to tell her that.

    Neither did Hannah care to attempt to alter her appearance at all. She wasn’t a very beautiful girl to begin with. It was a fact her parents never let her forget all her young and teenage life. They knew it would be difficult to marry her off and so she was left with the burden of taking up their legacy and making sure it was squandered. She accepted her ugly fate and appreciated not having to flaunt herself shamelessly to young men like her school friends had done. They all seemed rather miserable while she was happier than she could be.

    It didn’t explain why Amelia was in a similar position, however. And though Hannah tried to find out why she was paired with Amelia who was, by all accounts, quite beautiful, it was beyond her ability to argue the decision once it had been made. Hannah and Amelia were in this together. And though Hannah fully expected Amelia to one day run off with the first very rich and very eligible bachelor she encountered, she just needed to bide her time till that day came. Let me burst you bubble now, dear reader, that day never comes. And if you play your cards right (pun intended) I may tell you why on a different occasion. For now, pay attention! Even the smallest of details can be important now and definitely later.

    Amelia knocked on the door, throwing her head back at Hannah who kept her distance, and winking. Amelia could never understand why Hannah did that whenever they were visiting someone for the first time. She always left Amelia to be the first face they saw before making her presence known. She had heard that Hannah’s parents were less than kind to their daughter, hardening her for the cruel world. But Amelia had a very different upbringing. To her the world was not cruel but instead full of hope and wonder and especially, delicious food to eat. She wondered if you parents didn’t encourage her to play more outdoors and be active if only to burn away all the food she would manage to consume in a day. It definitely accounted for her petite figure. 

    Hannah wasn’t petite by any stretch of the imagination. She was at least two heads taller than Amelia and broad shouldered with long black hair that, when she let it fall freely, brought out the bright green of her eyes. But Hannah never let her hair fall freely. She always wore it pulled back from her face so that her chiseled jawline and striking eyebrows made her look a lot tougher than Amelia knew she was.

    Only once had Amelia dared to make a comment about Hannah’s appearance. It wasn’t in any way a slight, in fact, it was by all accounts a compliment. But Hannah only ever hears what she wants to hear and her bite is far worse than her bark. Amelia found this out the hard way. She learned her lesson to keep her opinion about Hannah’s looks to herself though it pains her to remain so silent.

    She knocked once more when the door didn’t open right away. Perhaps the party was so loud no one heard her the first time. The door finally swung open and a young woman who looked more disheveled than Hannah and Amelia, appeared in the doorway, leaning on the door, out of breath.

    “Who are you?” She asked.

    “I’m Amelia, and that’s my friend back there, Hannah. We’re looking for Mrs. Pomroy?” Amelia said, trying to look past the girl into the house that looked enormous just from where she stood on the front stoop.

    “Ma! Two more for dinner!” The girl shouted over her shoulder. “Come on in, you’re letting the cold in.” She waved them inside and Hannah walked in out of the shadows. “Blimey, you’re a tall one!” The girl blurted out. She realized her frankness hadn’t gone well with the guests and put her hand over her mouth.

    “I tell her that all the time,” Amelia said, trying to make light of the moment. “Hannah is used to it. Aren’t you?”

    Hannah forced a smile across her face in an attempt to put their rude host at ease.

    “I’m Tabby. Tabitha,” the girl said, extending her hand to Hannah first. Hannah took it and remembered to be gentle. She had been known to crush hands of grown men. But she was pleasantly surprised to discover Tabitha’s handshake was just as tough as her own. Tabitha then extended her hand to Amelia who took it briefly. “You can call me Tabby. Everyone else does.”

    “Tabby, who do we have here?” A rather rotund woman with an apron around her waist and a mole you could see from across a large room with two whiskers sticking out just above her lip on the right, appeared, wiping her hands on a rag.

    “This is Hannah and Amelia,” Tabby answered, pointing to each one.

    Mrs. Pomroy’s eyes widened. Her daughter wouldn’t know that she was expecting them. “You’re late,” she said, surveying them up and down with her eyes. She could be a real welcoming woman when she wanted to be. But lateness was something she truly didn’t abide by. They had already gotten off on the wrong foot and would need to work double hard to get back into her good graces.

    They needed this job. Up until now they had been nothing but trouble for the society and Mrs. Pomroy knew it. She had become their last line of defense for taking problem members and setting them straight. It was a task she hated having but even she couldn’t deny how good at it she was. Little did she know that Hannah and Amelia would prove her toughest cases so far.

    “I suppose you’ll be hungry after your travels,” Mrs. Pomroy said, more of a statement than a question and she marched off down the hall.

    Tabby leaned in and whispered to them, “You best follow after her.” And they did. Hannah took the lead while Amelia followed close behind. 

    Mrs. Pomroy stopped short outside double doors. Amelia bumped into Hannah who tried to stand as still as possible so as not to bump into Mrs. Pomroy, who turned around to face them. “I run a tight ship here. You have to when you’re in my position. Do you understand?” Amelia looked at Hannah to know how to answer but Hannah was just as much in the dark. Mrs. Pomroy smiled, but not warmly, “You will soon learn that it’s best to agree with me than stand there looking foolish. Through there you’ll find the others are nearly done with supper. If you hurry you might get something before everyone turns in. We have a very early day in the morning.” Amelia pushed past Hannah through the double doors. “I hope your friend won’t be a problem,” Mrs. Pomroy continued, eyeing Amelia who had already found a plate and was scooping food onto it without so much as an introduction to the other women who were sitting at a long table.

    “She’s not my—” Hannah started to say but stopped when Mrs. Pomroy gave her a discerning look.

    “We are all each other’s friends here, Hannah. We have to be in order to get by in this world and the job I have for you requires you to have someone you can trust. You don’t have to like her but you ought to at least trust her. But you are young. You’ll learn. Now eat before she leaves you with nothing.” Hannah bowed awkwardly, not knowing if she really needed to bow before entering the hall to sit beside Amelia who had at least grabbed a plate and some food for her. Hannah smiled at the small kindness Amelia showed. Perhaps Mrs. Pomroy was right.

    “What did she say?” Amelia asked, her mouth full of food.

    “Nothing important. I wonder if they’re all here for here for the same reason as we are,” Hannah whispered, trying not to make eye contact with the four other women who were sitting at the table.

    Tabby skipped over and plopped down in the only other chair that was vacant. It belonged to her mother but Mrs. Pomroy never ate with her staff, she felt it was beneath her to do so.

    “Is it true you two are trackers?” Tabby asked them. The other four women stopped eating and looked up at Hannah and Amelia. For the first time all eyes were on them and they were unsure how to answer that question.

    “Tabby, leave our guests alone. Why don’t you go and prepare their room,” Mrs. Pomroy said. Tabby sulked and left without another word. “Ladies,” she continued, clapping her hands, “it’s time to turn in. I will see you all at sunrise.”

    “Sunrise?” Amelia repeated. She was not one for waking up so early in the day.

    “I must tell you now ladies, we are all trackers here. No secrets among thieves. And if you want to remain a tracker you’ll want to rise with the sun or be left behind. The choice, as always, is yours.”

    Mrs. Pomroy and the four women left in single file, leaving Hannah and Amelia behind.

    “Listen, Amelia, I actually want to be here. I understand if this isn’t something you want to be doing with your life. But don’t ruin this for me. For better or worse we are bonded together and I just think we’ll get further if you think before you speak.”

    Amelia rolled her eyes. “Well I think that Mrs. Pomroy has ideas above her station. Who does she think she is, ordering us about like that. I’m not a child.”

    “Then stop acting like one and get serious for once. We were sent here to find items belonging to The First. If they’re all trackers too that means they’re after The First as well.”

    “Well, don’t worry about them. I already know where we can find The First Hat,” Amelia said, winking at Hannah.

    “What? And how is that possible?”

    “You underestimate my gifts, dear Hannah. Men, and women, are weak against my charms,” Amelia said, yawning and stretching. “But I’m tired. We might as well sleep. I will be positively ghastly waking with the sun.”

    Hannah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. But that was Amelia for her. She couldn’t stand her ease with talking to total strangers and getting information out of them. It’s what made her the perfect tracker. If only she took their job a bit more seriously. Hannah believed given time and patience Amelia would come around to her way of thinking. Till then, they had a hat to recover for the cause. And she was rather tired as well.

  • Masquerade | A 100 Word Story

    #343 National Poetry Month – 30 Days 30 Poems

    We all wore masks to hide our face
    From such a vile and ghastly place.
    We chanted and we drank all night
    Till morning came with first light.
    
    Some were tired and so they slept
    While others knew the outcome and wept.
    For the youth gone by so soon,
    And the laughter left behind with the moon.
    
    No one wanted to remove their mask,
    A common revolt from the simple task.
    When morning comes we must reveal,
    Our one true selves, that was the deal.
    
    I removed my mask and tossed it away,
    Ready at last to seize the day!

    Learn more about National Poetry Month HERE.

  • Gwendolyn | A 100 Word Story

    #342 National Poetry Month – 30 Days 30 Poems

    He rode upon his trusty steed,
    To duel a man about his greed,
    For food and wine and women too
    It was the noble thing to do.
    
    The helmet upon his head grew hot
    But they rode on—he would not stop
    When suddenly he felt a pain
    His leg warned him of rain.
    
    Lightning struck a tree close by
    A limb came crashing from the sky
    And landed right in front of the horse
    With little time to change their course.
    
    They galloped over the fallen limb
    To fight a battle they’ll surely win
    For the heart of Gwendolyn.

    Learn more about National Poetry Month HERE.

  • The Look Back | Issue #2

    3/16/2024 – 4/5/2024

    Dear Reader,

    Another Saturday, another opportunity for me to share all that I’ve been working on the past couple of weeks. As I try to find my “sea legs” with all the various projects I have going in 2024 I appreciate this time I’m giving myself to remember that there is actual writing progress happening. Sometimes it can be easy to forget that things are actually getting done when you’re in the weeds of it all. If you ever have a chance to look back, I recommend it, even if it’s just for yourself.


    100 WORD STORIES

    You can pretty much guarantee that every newsletter will have at least 13 of these ready to read! But, instead of sharing the stories I’m going a different route and sharing the link to The First 100 because I published a book. The first in a series that may never end. So, if you missed where this journey started and want to have a copy on your bookshelf here’s your chance! I’m releasing these in PRINT form only.


    ANATOMY OF TYPEWRITERS | ANTHOLOGY

    *Paid Subscribers Only

    I’ve completed yet another short story and it comes in at just under 10,000 words. If you haven’t read Killer Keys, you may want to give it a try, so long as you don’t believe that typewriters have a mind of their own.

    The latest completed story is The Night Shift. If dolls that move and talk give you nightmares or the creeps, this story might not be for you.


    COMMUNITY WRITING EXERCISES

    If you’re looking for a place to flex your writing muscles (whether professionally or just as a hobby) look no further:


    WHAT I’M READING, WATCHING, AND LISTENING

    READING | The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens & The Mysterious Affairs at Styles by Agatha Christie

    WATCHING | Midsomer Murders on Britbox (a streaming service)

    LISTENING | Cowboy Carter by Beyoncé


    THE OPT-IN EMAILS

    Everything below requires you to actually change your subscription. You can do so here so you won’t miss out on these great opportunities for discussion. Click Here.


    THE MURDER PEN CLUB

    My most secret passion is serial killers. I am fascinated by them. So it should come as no surprise to you that my idols are Agatha Christie and Alfred Hitchcock. This club is my way to connect with them and share with you my love for all of their work through literature and film.


    THE WRITERS CIRCLE

    Getting to share my thoughts on my writing journey and what I hear being talked about in writing communities is something I enjoy doing but I know not everyone will want to read my thoughts and so, it’s up to you but here are some of what was on my mind recently:

  • When Mourning Comes | A 100 Word Story

    #341 National Poetry Month – 30 Days 30 Poems

    Sunlight shone upon her red hair splayed on the grass
    The entire night spent sleeping under the stars
    Birds chirping their mourning songs on branches.

    Soon her parents will awaken when the cock crows
    And tend to their chores as farmers do
    Never wondering where their daughter might be this mourn

    By afternoon the father wipes his sweaty brow
    As he trudges towards the water well for a drink
    Footprints in the dirt mask where she had been

    Then mother calls out for her daughter
    And wonders where that silly dreamer could be
    Laying still upon the grass till mourn.

    Learn more about National Poetry Month HERE.

  • Free Writing Fridays #044

    Your 100 Word Story

    REMINDER: Collaborative writing with me is the FIRST Friday of every month. See you again on May 3rd. Weekly prompts can be found by turning ON #Pentober52 from your subscriber settings here.

    IMAGE PROMPT

    A special building indeed, you walk in at the present time but when you leave it may be a different time entirely and you don’t get to decide when that time is. Will you take that chance? Why? What might you be running away from, I wonder


    You don’t have to write your story today!
    Free write all weekend long!

    MY 50 WORDS

    Add your own by copy/pasting it in the comments or hit reply to this email.

    She walked down the street at a steady pace, looking back once more to see if she was still being followed. No one there, but she knew it was only a matter of time now.

    The building was dark until she pulled the heavy door open and the clock illuminated.

    WRITE YOUR OWN 100 WORD STORY

    • Write exactly 100 words. Not 99 or 101. The Word Count Police are tracking!

    • Genre? Writer’s choice! So long as you give us all the thrills and the feels.

    • To Fic or to Non-Fic? You decide. What matters most is that you’re satisfied with the output.

    • Copy/paste your words in the comments, then share on your own Substack, and maybe, share to social media!

    • A Note on Substack Notes | Click the 🔄 “Restack with a Note” and copy/paste your story for added reach and growth.