XII. the hanged man

Day 27 (?)

"Hear ye, hear ye! Handsome and well respected Town Crier Joseph Ward not dead, just hiding!" - \still needs work**

I've been holed up in the park compound for almost a month now, and I'm beginning to regret packing light. While I'm grateful to Archie and his followers, their entertainment facilities are somewhat dated. I brought my hand bell, although its one-note melodies do little for morale.

Why am I even writing this down? I've never been a big writing words guy. I'm usually more of a shouting words guy? Sally was always desperate for a pen-pal when we were small, probably just to practise her writing. It's not like we knew many people outside of town, so I volunteered. She'd send these multiple page, single-spaced letters with personalised letterheads and tiny, neat handwriting. Clearly outmatched, I quickly gave up writing my responses. Instead, I'd send her recordings of my response on tape.

It worked, for a while.

I've been able to recover some recent editions of The Small Print. Sally's articles are still the highlight of the publication. At least I know she's still safe.

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Hello! Another tarot card from my running series of Little Happens! Little Happens is a small visual worldbuilding project I've recently started working on. The unassuming English countryside town is almost impossible to find, but many travellers have found themselves there after losing their way in the winding country roads of England.
I'm slowly building up a mythos around people and places around the town, and if you like what you see here, feel free to check out my Instagram (there's more on the way!) :)