The Trick Library

Two written predictions, sealed before anyone chooses, exactly name the cards a lady and a gentleman freely arrive at.

Four spectators pocket unseen cards, yet you name every one by touching a Joker to their pockets.

Four spectators pocket unseen random cards, and a wise Joker reveals each one by touch.

Three cards are buried, pocketed, and handed out unseen, yet you reveal all three as if reading minds.

Three named cards vanish from the deck, and your written predictions match them perfectly.

A spectator peeks at a card buried in the deck, yet you name it without ever seeing it yourself.

Two cards in your pockets mysteriously identify the two cards a spectator pocketed, through pure sympathy.

A chatty Queen seems to whisper the identity of the bottom card of each of four heaps directly into your ear.

A spectator buries a random red card among the black cards, and you reveal it from a prediction you wrote before they even chose.

Two named cards vanish from a shuffled packet and reappear inside the card case sitting in plain view.

A card freely pointed to turns out to be the very card a spectator only thought of moments later.

A spectator merely thinks of a card while shuffling, yet you single it out of the spread without a single question.

A freely chosen card is lost in the deck through cuts and shuffles, yet you locate it with ease.

A spectator cuts the deck freely and remembers a card, yet you slice straight back to it moments later.

A spectator peeks at a card, deals the deck into a grid, and you locate it from one simple question.

A spectator cuts near centre and remembers a card, and you produce it from the deck, your hand, or your pocket.

A spectator cuts, returns a card to the centre, and you reveal it, sometimes found reversed in the heart of the deck.

Your spelling attempt to find the card seems to fail, then the spectator's own spelling lands on it perfectly.

You rapidly spell off the names of card after card, each one turning up correctly on its last letter, repeating as long as you like.

The top card seems to whisper another card's name to you, and you spell straight to that card.

Two shuffled packs, you and a spectator each pick a card, and the two cards astonishingly match.

A streamlined two-pack coincidence where your card and the spectator's freely chosen card turn out identical.

An early two-pack coincidence in which your card and the spectator's selection turn out to be the same.

Two people each pick a card from separate shuffled packs, and the two chosen cards turn out to be identical.

A spectator merely thinks of one card among several, yet your card and theirs turn out to be twins.

Two spectators each shuffle a deck, both pick cards, and your two chosen cards perfectly match theirs.

Four cards are freely chosen and lost, yet you slowly divine the name of every one.

A spectator buries a freely chosen card, then names every card aloud, and you catch theirs by 'the sound of their voice.'

A card chosen from one of seven cut piles is buried among the others, yet you divine its name from across the room.

While you are out of the room, any number of spectators take cards; on returning you name every one and how many were chosen.

A spectator merely thinks of a number, peeks at the card there, and you produce that exact card from your pocket.

With your back turned, a spectator deals out a row of cards, quietly fixes one in mind, and then keeps dealing and mixing as freely as they like before gathering everything up. There is no force, no q

Two spectators each arrive at a card by counting their own freely chosen number, and your two written predictions match both.

A card seems to jump from your packet to the spectator's, landing right beside the card they freely chose.

A spectator stops you anywhere and merely thinks of one card among several, and you later find it without a word.

A spectator thinks of a number, the performer counts down, and the signed card lands exactly there.

You borrow a deck, deal it openly, fail to spot a card, yet a hidden order quietly snaps into place.

After a genuine riffle shuffle, you appear to read the deck through its backs, naming cards while they lie face down.

A spectator stabs a knife into the deck and calls a color, and the card there matches their call.

You write a card's name, a spectator freely picks a counting number, and your written card appears at that exact spot.

A spectator buries a freely cut card in a deck they shuffled, and you find it without ever seeing them look at it.

The audience shuffles an ordinary deck, you take it back, and moments later that same deck performs an impossible feat.

A small packet sits on the table.

A brand-new deck is opened by a spectator.

Several people each hold a freely chosen card, and you reveal them one at a time as if reading minds across the room.

A spectator shuffles, cuts, peeks a card and loses it, yet you name it the instant the deck touches your hand.

A short routine of fingertip miracles: you read a whispered card, find a freely named card blindfolded, and divine sealed cards.

Someone cuts a chunk from the deck and slips it into their pocket without counting it, so even they have no idea how many cards they hold.