The Detroit Tigers 2025 campaign came to a close this week. They lost game five of the ALDS to the Seatle Mariners. It was a great game, but Seatle scored in the bottom of the 15th inning to break a 2-2 tie and move into the ALCS against Toronto. Detroit will have to wait for next year to see if they can recover.
The Detroit Lions are now 4-1 after winning last weekend. Hopefully, they can continue their winning ways today when they play the 2-3 Kansas City Chiefs.
After winning last weekend and moving up to 15th in the NCAA rankings, the Michigan Wolverines lost to the USC Trojans yesterday. It wasn’t even a close game, as the Trojans came out on top, 31-13. Likewise, the Michigan State Spartans didn’t fare any better as they lost to the UCLA Bruns 38-13.
Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. … It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.” — Enid Bagnold. Compliments of https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/72-of-the-best-quotes-about-writing.
So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on October 12th, the forty-first Sunday of 2025 and the second one in October. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).
William Chillingworth, English scholar, theologian (The Religion of Protestants), and poet; Walter T Watts-Dunton, English lawyer, poet and writer (Aylwin); George W. Cable, American writer (Northampton Years); Amintore Galli, Italian composer, artistic director, musical journalist, and music publisher; August Sauer, Austrian literature historian (Euphorion); Louis Hémon, French novelist (Maria Chapdelaine); Paula von Preradović, Croatian-Austrian poet and writer; Eugenio Montale, Italian poet and translator (Xenia-Nobel 1975); Dick Binnendijk, Dutch poet and literary critic (Authoritarian Regimes in Transition); Ding Ling, Chinese writer (The Sun Shines over the Sanggan River); Lester Dent, American writer (Doc Savage); Ann Lane Petry, American journalist and author (Street); Paul Engle, American poet and writer (Worm Earth, American Song); Robert Fitzgerald, American poet and translator; Alice Childress, American playwright, actress and writer; Thomas Burnett Swann, American sci-fi author (Day of Minotaur); Jack Gottlieb, American composer, writer and editor; William Raspberry, American columnist (Pulitzer 1994); Gawn Grainger, British theatre actor and playwright (Four to One); Geoff Murphy, New Zealand screenwriter and director (Utu, Goodbye Pork Pie); Gerd Stern, American poet of the Beat era, multi-media artist (USCO), and cheese monger; and Brian Kennedy, Northern Irish musician, songwriter, and author.
Any names familiar to you? There weren’t any for me this week. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!
My Work In Progress
Work slowly continued on my first edit pass of the manuscript for Harding’s Challenge: The Great Rebellion based on reader feedback and make adjustments based on what I think works best. Since my last post, there were another four new chapter reviews this week, bringing the total to 315. As always, plenty of feedback to improve the story.
Here’s another snippet:
In less than an hour, Evie’s alter ego strolled through the middle of Tankard Town. Priscilla rested atop her shoulder as Evie made her way toward a place to park. She was fascinated with the town. She’d been there for a social occasion with her parents once, but she wasn’t allowed to appreciate it like this. Walking through the area on her own was something special.
At that moment, she noticed a small, mechanical creature patrolling the town and ducked her head as it came near, immediately recognizing her father’s handiwork. The whole of Canebreak, including all of Tankard Town, was monitored by automatons, meaning not many folks got in or out without her father knowing.
But why all the security precautions? She wondered how advanced her father and his scientific mechanics had become with his creations.
Evie made sure to blend in as best she could. She’d carefully studied the men at the manor so that she could be discreet in how she walked and talked, although Evie might have preferred her voice was a scant deeper.
Evie smiled slightly as she hid the papers Alberto gave her deep inside her coat. Living two lives was dangerous but challenging. Nevertheless, Evie was thrilled by it. Not a soul would question a man for having a micro spider, a cocked hat, or for wandering the streets. If Evie was caught, people might call her some horrible version of a lady of the night or ask if she was lost or a simple-minded child, which she was certainly not. Her worries were unfounded, because by and large she was ignored.
As her watch chimed four in the afternoon, she made her way toward Club Marclay. She eyed the path and rushed toward the area, wondering about the club’s name. Marclay was a numerological word that meant ‘what the soul wants if it be good, the soul shall receive.’ She didn’t know why someone would name it after that. Assuming the club was underground, it could have something to do with the pages that Alberto gave her.
Now that she knew Alberto supported her secret errands and messages, she was thankful her alter ego allowed her passage to move about more freely. Alberto’s messages led her, in many directions, helping her father’s many crimes, and why he should be indicted and punished for his dirty deeds.
It took no time to find the club entrance and even less to decipher the preposterous password. Evie laughed. The scratchings above her were a dead giveaway. Club Marclay was full of people Alberto said, that hated Barnabas Latimer as much as she did.
Evie strode over to a table and sat alone. She extended her arm as Prissy crawled onto the table where she scattered the pages.
“What can I get for you?” the barkeep, a man of color, asked.
“I will take a rum with a twist of lime and,” Evie spoke in her deepest voice, “got any cane sugar, sir?”
“Yessum, we do, sir.” The man nodded.
“Name’s Albert. No ‘sir’ about it.” Evie nodded and, extended her gloved hand.
“Tom.” The barkeep offered a proper manly handshake.
“Nice to meet you.”
Moments later, Evie was sipping a drink and sifting through the pages Alberto gave her. As she scanned the pages her eyes grew wide. The papers were actual documents and contracts, some signed in blood. The name Annabelle caught her eye, and Evie sucked in a breath. She always thought there were odd similarities between Anna and herself. Besides the color of their skin, they were similar in features and mannerisms, and Anna was only slightly older than Evie.
The documents revealed Barnabas Latimer killed Anna’s father for defiling his a mulatto slave. Within the papers, she discovered photos of a dead body made the Manor’s trusted photographer authenticated with a note saying he’d taken, processed, and developed the pictures onsite using the daguerreotype process. Surely this man must oppose Latimer, having to take photographs like that. Wouldn’t he?
Evie closed her eyes as her head began to swim. She took a breath and opened her eyes, scanning the room, when she noticed a newcomer sitting at a nearby table. As the stranger eyed Prissy, Evie chewed the inside of her lip with a frown.
Evie returned to the documents to discover something that blurred her vision. In a clear hand, the document stated that Vivien a mulatto slave was the half-sister of Evie’s mother Izabella. According to the paper before her, Barnabas Latimer killed Vivien to keep her relationship to her mother a secret. Evie stared up at the whirling ceiling fan, blinking, gritting her teeth and, trying not to tear up.
“Of course, I look like Anna,” Evie whispered. That would make Anna my cousin. Vivien would have been my aunt. Evie sighed at the thought but quickly retracted the notion when she noticed the next page.
And thusly signed in blood by no other than the one and only Dr. Browning, delivering doctor to the slave known as Vivien of her baby girl Evangeline Latimer, and sworn to utmost secrecy the child was born of a slave, and father, Barnabas Latimer. From this moment and henceforward, the child Evangeline will be documented as being the child of Izabella and Barnabas Latimer, pending the disposal of the slave known as Vivien and her husband.
Vivien’s younger child Annabelle will be spared and reared as Evangeline’s handmade, to serve her unknown sister for the rest of her days, or to the day that she should be rendered useless.
Signed: Barnabas Latimer, Doctor Oscar Browning.
Dated: February 22nd, 1853.
Browning’s signature was signed in blood.
More next time.
This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.
© Copyright 2025 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved
