Fantasy Characters vs Electricity

Hi Readers,

We had a Murphy’s Law kind of week and learned a valuable lesson about electricity. Fictional characters are conductive. What prompted this experiment?

Well, you see, our scribe’s power went out thus knocking out her heat and hot water. We feared the pipes would freeze, and we didn’t want to spend hours cleaning that mess up again. So we got to thinking. Electricity glows, right?

So does my dad’s eyes. You see where this is going, right? 😉 Well, Papa refused to play along. (He was smart.) And he made me (Ran) promise not to get involved either. 😦 So I had front row seats to a congo line of characters attempting to channel electricity from the pole to our or scribe’s shoebox apartment.

It was a hair-raising event. 🙂

Please don’t try this at home. We’re fictional. Our scribe regenerates us. That’s why we protect her.

So the electric company won that round. They restored power and our scribe returned to work hours later. Thank God the pipes didn’t freeze again.

We hope your week was better than ours.

We’ve been playing around with pixels and are in the process of updating the covers for our series. We want a more unified look. How does this strike you?


And don’t forget to download a free preview of Curse Breaker: Falls. We hope you enjoy it. And now for part 6 of our exclusive wintry adventure:

Shards for His Present:

A Curse Breaker Wintry Exclusive

Part 6

(Read Part 1part 2, Part 3,  part 4, Part 5)

Papa did save me, didn’t he? That was me the beast-man spirited off, right? 

The question sparked a chilling fear. What if that baby wasn’t him. What if it was a brother or sister he’d never met? 

Snow was piling up around Ran, but he couldn’t go home, not until he knew how this story ended. So he picked up the ornament and gazed into its luminous heart as a scene that transpired sixteen years in his past resolved out of the silver and gold stars falling inside it.



When Sarn opened his eyes next, he lay warm and dry on a bunk in the Rangers’ barracks and a familiar gray shape perched at his bedside.

“Shade, what are you doing here?”

“I come like a winter wind, bearing ill-news on my snow-laden–eh–gust?” Shade scratched–his or her–chin through the veil covering all but a pair of concerned brown eyes.

“Shade came because you said I’m not allowed to wander around the mountain by myself.” Miren leaned past Shade to deliver that barb. “Other kids my age are allowed. I don’t understand what the big deal is. I turned eleven a couple months ago.”

“Because I’m responsible for you. When you’re my age, we can reevaluate this.” And that was all Sarn intended to say on that matter until his brother turned seventeen, so he glared at Miren until his brother let the subject drop.

“Fine, then I won’t tell you why I came.” Miren folded his arms over his chest and frowned at the floor.

Sarn looked to his best friend for the answer, and Shade had one ready because Miren liked to talk. Before delivering that explanation, Shade glanced around to make sure they had this corner of the barracks to themselves. Snores punctuated the quiet. But Shade waited, listening hard for anyone creeping around in search of a chamber pot or drink of water. When his androgynous friend was satisfied, Shade leaned back so the post holding the two bunks above this one aloft screened his friend from view.


“A horn-sporting son of a goat kidnapped your son.” A veil hid Shade’s smile at Miren’s indignation.

“I tried to stop him.” At Sarn’s incredulous look, Miren continued. “I did. I threw everything I could find at the creep, but he got away. Will tried to stop him too. It was a group effort, but he was a wily one.”

Sarn stared at his brother. As his story unfolded, light on the pertinent details, of course, he shook his head. “Who would kidnap my son?  No one except the Foundlings and you two know about him.”

Then he recalled the woman and the incident on the river. Relating it took only a moment since a lot of it centered around his heroic efforts to keep his master from drowning.

“It has to be her.” Sarn swung his legs over the side of the bunk.

“Makes sense. So what do we do about it?” Shade handed him his boots.

“We go after her. I don’t see any other options.”

“You could tell someone.”

“And lose my son? No thanks. They’ll take him away from me. I had a hard enough time getting custody of Miren, and he was nine at the time.”

“I remember.” Shade shrugged. “I’d be a poor friend if I didn’t point that out.”

“You had to fight for me?” Miren stared at him and Sarn nodded.

“Shh, keep your voice down. Of course, I did. You were my only family before–” Sarn ended that with a shrug when he heard someone stirring. He motioned for Shade and Miren to follow him around piles of gear, clothes, and items not even the glow of his eyes could resolve into anything other than boxy shapes.

Once in the hallway, Sarn tied his boots then faced a dilemma. He couldn’t take his brother into that frigid night. Hell, he didn’t even want to go back out there. But I have to go after my son. 

Did he? Ran was nine months old and the concept of fatherhood was still a new, ill-fitting and confusing. What if he didn’t go after that child?

He wouldn’t be tied to a woman who’d betrayed him then hid her pregnancy. She didn’t even visit you during the long months you spent recuperating.  

But could he hold the sins of the mother against the child?


You’ll have to hide him if you retrieve him. If anyone finds out about him, they’ll take him away. And if he grows up, he’ll be just like you–hated because of the magic in his blood. What kind of life is that? 

The same one I’m living. Was that really so bad? No. For better or worse, that child is mine and I need to know he’s okay. 

“So we’re doing this?” Shade cocked his or her head to one-side and an anticipatory gleam crossed those familiar brown eyes.

Sarn nodded. “What about Miren?”

“What about me? I’m going with you. He’s my nephew.”

“I’m coming too,” Will chimed in as he and a few other boys poked their heads out of their hiding spot behind a covered cart. Crumbs dotted their clothing.

Sarn exchanged a glance with his best friend. Shade nodded. They were of one mind on the subject.

“All right, but first there’s something I need you to do. It’s critical to saving–” Sarn paused as footsteps sounded from nearby. No doubt it was the Ranger babysitter of the night coming to check on him. He motioned for the four boys, ranging in age from fifteen to eleven, to follow him. Then froze when one of those boys turned out not to be a boy at all.

“What are you doing here?”

To be continued next week. 

We hope you’re enjoying our Wintry tale.

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Until next time, dear reader

This is Ran, son of Sarn, “the Spirited Away Character?” wishing you a great week!

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