When starting something new, it's difficult not to hone in on its imperfections. Ideas are fragile things in the stark light of reality. They shrivel on the vine of scrutiny.
Starting new journals feel the same. Perhaps even more profane. I behold a clean, empty space with all its crisp lines, and think of all the ways I will dirty it all with my thoughts and feelings and half ideas: crooked lines and smudges and oil stains from clumsy, imprecise fingers.
For some context, I’ve started the practice of writing a sort of note to myself at the beginning of new journals. Sort of like an introducti
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It's done(ish)! At least the first draft of it. "Scotch & Cyanide" (temp title) came out to be 11,003 words--a good 1,003 over my target. Reading it outside of its file, I already see some redundancies and a few lines that could be trimmed.
The story is a speculative infused mystery inspired by Sherlock Holmes short stories.
Since it's Sunday, I thought I'd share the first 500 words of it.
When the Millebrand case landed on my desk sometime in the autumn of 1927, I couldn’t fathom how consequential it would end up being. No one could.
It was supposed to be a simple welfare check. Due to the uptick of crime in Hollow Grove, both mortal and supernatural, the check was of low priority within the department. The Volstead Act was hard to enforce and, contrary to its aim of eliminate the drunken vice, paved the way for its expansion into a lucrative criminal industry. I had just got into the office after taking part in a raid on a small, father-son moonshine operation and about to write up my report when my boss, Chief Sloan, called me into his office.
I knew what awaited me wouldn’t be good. It was well into the afternoon and I was exhausted after a ten hour shift. I was ready to clock out and somehow knew that whatever assigned to me at this late point would be some grunt work they were more than happy to pass off to the junior beat officer. Being colored and lycan, I got a fair bit of those in my first few years.
I closed the door behind me as I entered Sloan’s office. The chief was a heavy set man with meaty hands always grasping onto a cigar. He had a sweaty, ruddy complexion and thinning dark hair, but his uniform was always neatly pressed thanks to the wife at home.
He threw a folder across his desk towards me and puffed slow at his cigar. “I need you and Rockhurst to follow up on this.”
I grimaced as I took up the file. The folder had a single page. Names and addresses and a line or two were written in a careless, messy shorthand. “What’s this?”
“It’s a welfare check. That boy Winslow on Fleet’s had been blowing up the line about it all week. Shouldn’t take you more than a few minutes to sniff about the place,” he added slyly.
I’m more used to those sly comments now, but back in my youth I was more sensitive and hot-tempered toward them. I snapped the folder close. “I still need to file my report on the Kerry case. Couldn’t this be passed along to the next patrol shift?”
Our resources are spread pretty thin, Knight,” Sloan lectured slow, as if this was something I didn’t already know. “Do the welfare check. I still expect your Kerry report to be submitted along with this one tomorrow morning.”
He puffed a few clouds of his stinking cigar into the air and turned his attention to other papers on his desk. “You’re dismissed.”
Thanks so much to @axl-ul for tagging me in this. Always appreciate you!
Gently Tagging: @kaatiba, @astras-rambles, @ibuprofen-exe, @transman-badass, @northwyrm, @tracle0, @duckingwriting and anyone who wants to participate!
Rules: Find a line in your WIP (dialogue, monologue, description or other; they can be from multiple WIPs) which fits the parameters given by the person who tagged you. Then change one of the parameters and tag some people.
Your Lines:
a line about a building
a line about the weather
a line that includes a quarrel
a line about fear (tis the season)
a line that includes a lie
I'm a bit out of practice with tag games but this looked fun!
My lines:
a line about a building
a line about the weather
a line that includes a quarrel
a line that is shouted
a line that includes a lie
A Line About A Building (Festival of Shadows)
The church itself was an impressive structure with a high gabled roof of the main chapel with frosted windows high up on each side. It allowed natural light to flood the room, bathing the handcrafted pews and deep red carpets that ran throughout it in a warm glow. She heard that the building’s face was positioned to catch the light of the halo moon at the its apex with that white ring encircling the pulpit before widening out to the whole room. Midnight services for their acolytes were a common practice during the Festival for this reason.
A Line About the Weather (Festival of Shadows)
She avoided looking up. Even with her back turned, she could still sense its soft light baring down on her. The halo moon was more unnerving than she anticipated. The lights were bright on the ground but the darkness of the night was absolute. No stars. No satellites. Just the halo moon. It was the full moon, but something blasted a perfect hole in its center. The darkness within was absolute and the thin rim that was left was the most brilliant of whites. It was always dead center in the sky, no matter where she was looking.
A Line that Includes a Quarrel (Gallow Lane WIP)
“How do you know?” Mariela asked, thinking along the same lines.
“It’s single-minded and hungry. If it’s prey is where it ought to be, it’ll have no need to rush.”
That response only brought more questions. What’s hungry? How many are there? And how would September even know any of that? But it did make an odd sort of sense. This department’s only goal was to keep them there.
Emery didn’t budge. “Then it would make sense to hide then. Not pen ourselves in with no where else to go.”
September set his jaw. He was done arguing.
A Line that is Being Shouted (Festival of Shadows)
“Wait!” Hakeem shouted over the line. “I’m trying to help you, Knight. If you’d only cooperate, we could—“
“I don’t need your help,” September broke in acidly. “I did you the favor, remember?
A Line That Includes a Lie (Eyes of God WIP)
It was an accident. She laughed at the lie. What happened to Dale was as much of an accident as his fling with Sue, Kitty, Christine, and every other woman that caught him unawares with his pants down. By his accounting, it was all a mistake. A stumble in the dark. A slip into disrepute.
In honor of National Library Week (April 6th-April 12th), I want to take a moment to tell you all that libraries are not only places to find books and movies. (Although, I’m not gonna downplay that. It’s so much free material and all you need to access it is a library card. That’s priceless in today’s economy). You can find so many free resources at your local library. Almost all of them have access to computers and free public wi-fi. They offer cheap printing services and meeting rooms that anyone can book (be it small study groups or larger nonprofit events). They also have a multitude of online resources: from databases to help you with research projects to genealogy services to help you investigate family histories to sites that can provide learning and skills training to bump up your resume. There’s so much to offer and you don’t even need a library card to access all of it (but why not, right?).
There’s another aspect to libraries. One that I don’t think is highlighted enough in public discussions about their importance: libraries are essential community spaces. Many libraries across the United States (across the world even) host free events to address the needs of their communities and to promote literacy programming. My local branch hosts Storytimes to encourage early literacy in children while also offering parents a place to connect with one another. It also offers Legislative Coffee events to allow constituents a chance to connect with their elected officials. There’s book groups, board game meet-ups, along with a host of writing groups and special speaker events. And that’s just scratching the surface of how libraries offer spaces for communities to build connections from within. With the recent slash-happy approach to spending championed by the current US administration, I think it’s increasingly important to highlight and advocate for the institutions that are essential for the health of our communities. Rather than merely assessing worth through spreadsheets and perceived “waste,” we need to be thoughtful about the impact they have on people’s lives. This goes beyond libraries. This goes for every social program that we’ve taken for granted until now. But let’s get back to libraries, in particular. They’ve been very important to me throughout my life. When my family moved from one state to another around the time I started middle school, one of the first things my parents did was get me my own library card. That access gave the overactive imagination of an 11-year-old me something to preoccupy myself with as I settled into the transition. Libraries were places I hung out with my friends and where I fed my rabid and varied interests over the years. In celebration of National Library Week, I urge you all to support your local branch by picking up your next book, movie, or video game obsession. Investigate all the resources your local library has to offer through its website.
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Joey left his boxer shorts on the bed post again.
There they were: proud, plaid, and blue like the American Flag on the the Fourth of July.
It was Saturday morning.
The first thing I saw when I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes were those boxer shorts. As my eyes took in the whole picture, I realized there were clothes scattered everywhere. As I took in the rest of the apartment, there were
dishes piled in the sink, small bits of food littered on the kitchen floor, and a laundry hamper full of soiled clothes. I stood in the center of it all wondering how I failed to notice any of it when I walked in the night before.
So, instead of sleeping in with a cup of coffee and the daily news, I was busy straightening up the house like a goddamn maid. But those boxer shorts remained the ultimate symbol of my ire.
Joey himself was sleeping on his stomach as a line of drool flowed down his pillow. He was half naked, of course. The sheets and comforter a messy heap from his waist down. Sonorous snores filled up the room as he blissfully rested in the land of deep sleep. It would be a shame if someone ruined such a pretty picture.
I poked him with the end of my broomstick. “Yo asshole.”
Hello! My name is MT (she/her) and this is my writeblr!
I write speculative fiction with a bent towards horror and the strange, though I love experimenting with other genres every so often.
My themes and topics tends towards the fantastical and the existential. Monsters, mysteries, and histories are my bread and butter with dashes of "humor." The quotations are an urge to take that assertion with a grain of salt.
Other things that often crop up in relation to writing is my love of music, science, and nature (especially plants, birds, and mycology)
General Housekeeping
Below the cut you will find information about all my WIPs, past and present. This will be updated periodically!
But first, some quick bullets
To start off, I should state all my writing (esp longer pieces) will be posted on my website: mthollowell.com . Alongside my fiction, you'll also find book reviews and other writing related musings.
All my writing updates will be under #mt writes. This includes snippets, blurbs, tag games, writing challenges, and the like
I read a lot, all over, so all book things can be found under the #mt reads tag
This is my writing sideblog. I follow back with @missaddledmiss
I also have a Bluesky account. If you wander out that way, let me know so I can give you a follow
And if you like my stories and are able, you can drop a few pennies into my Kofi account!
Long Term Projects
Festival of Shadows/Supernatural Mystery, Horror, Thriller
During the Hollow Grove's infamous Founder Festival, reporter Mariela Hudson seeks to uncover a five year mystery that involves a cult, a mysterious ritual that ended in a deadly fire, and a missing woman whose relationship with both is still shrouded in shadows. All the while, a monster waits.
WIP Introduction /// Excepts under #festivalwip
Grim Lore WIP/ Supernatural Mystery, Horror
Sebastian Calderon accepts a job in a new town called Hollow Grove that's setting up roots in the wilderness on the promise of land and some cash in his pocket. But not everything is as it seems and the price he pays for his labor may be too steep.
Hollow Grove Stories/Speculative Fiction, Horror, "Humor"
A collection of shorts about the various characters in Hollow Grove often set during its contemporary timeline (circa 2016-2017). Mischief and terror abound.
Stories under #hollow grove stories
Divided Loyalties WIP/ Fantasy, Adventure, Romance
Kalon is a prince of a fallen empire seeking vengence against its conquerer, Satomi Satinos, the bandit king. In order to do that, he infiltrates his kingdom in hope of slaying the source of his power, the great dragon Raylene. But in his quest, he unwittingly falls in love with the bandit king's daughter, Uraya, and uncovers a conspiracy that threatens to break the whole of their world.
Story 1 WIP/ Fantasy, Action Adventure, Coming of Age
Haru is a young prisoner of a never-ending war that spans multiple worlds. He makes his living at the forge, but his daily life is interrupted when a guard is found dead and he's accused of the murder. As he awaits his execution, he's offered a chance of escape by a man who brings him to another world. He tries to keep a low profile and his new powers in check, so he doesn't attract the attention of the guards tracking them. When he runs into a group of kids in this strange new world, colloquially known as Earth, he opens their mind to all the worlds hidden around them.
(Called Story 1 since its the first comprehensive story I've ever come up with yet I cannot think of a better title)
Shorter Projects (Last Updated November 2024):
31 Days of Horror 2024:
A collection of stories I made for a 2024 October horror challenge
Escape from Gallow Lane: A Hollow Grove Story
Local Hollow Grove reporters Mariela and Emery find themselves on the wrong side of the law, and things somehow get worse from there.
Hanging on the Telephone: A Hollow Grove
After a seance in the basement of the Edelhaus Church goes awry and cuts off the WIFI across the county, Mariela Hudson tries her luck with the old tech of yesteryear with her dad’s old dial-up computer.
Below is a more plot relevant autopsy scene from my Festival WIP. September is called in to examine a body and he has lots of thoughts.
In late January of 2012, September got a call from Detective Hakeem James to help identify a monster.
He knew the call was coming. Based on the initial reports that trickled out of the police department, it was clear that what happened in the Grimwell Woods went beyond a simple wildfire. Cameron Acre, his crime correspondent at the time, relayed to him some rumors of an animal attack and suspected cult activity from his contacts on the inside.
September was haunted by a vague sense of doom up until that fateful call. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on. Due to his affliction, this feeling wasn’t uncommon. He had a Rolodex in his mind filled with snatches of the future that he couldn’t make sense of. Most were mundane. Others had details that were so outside his perception that he struggled to recall them. Most of his early visions in those dark, confusing days were like that. A series of images he couldn’t make sense of. The more he tried to grasp them, the less he was able to. Even with the benefit of hindsight.
He feared what happened at Grimwell laid in the latter camp. His memory was long and nonlinear.
That sense of doom never left. It ebbed and flowed like the rising tide. Now the water was up to his neck and he was seconds from drowning.
Maybe there was something he missed. He contemplated this as he stood over the body of Tamara Hawkins in the cold wash of the morgue. From all who knew her in her early life, Hawkins was bubbly and friendly girl set to make her mark on the world. She was captain of her cheer squad and set to go to Michigan State for engineering. Then she met her first husband, Ryan, and got swept into Hallow Path upon graduation. Both of their parents stuck with Holtzman even after the Basement Murder controversy, firmly believing in his divinity. Ryan eventually left with their two kids. Tamara stayed and it all went downhill from there. She was 36 when she died.
The body on the table bore little resemblance to the woman she was before. Second- and third-degree burns covered every inch of exposed skin. The smell of charred flesh filled his nose even though she had been on ice for more than a week. Her characteristic thick blond hair was reduced to mere strands on her burned scalp.
September narrowed in on the less typical injuries, circling the table as Detective James loomed over him. Being broad at 6’5, it was what the man did best.
And September was making a nuisance of himself. The official overview with the Medical Examiner concluded 30 minutes ago. Dr. Welts grew more nervous with each passing minute, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. If he had to guess, he was probably eating into the doctor’s lunch hour. They were just about to lock Hawkins back in the freezer when he was brought back to this moment.
“Have any more insights you’d like to share?” the detective grumbled irritably.
He was wary of him. Wary about this whole arrangement. He and September didn’t know each other that well yet having met in person only yesterday over lunch. September should’ve been just as wary at the time, but such observations could only be learned in hindsight.
