Will You Be There?

Hi Readers,

I hope you had a happy Valentine’s day.

First, I must apologize for jumping into this week’s newsletter. Ran won’t be happy when he realizes that I cut in, so I’ll say my piece then return control of this week’s newsletter to him. 

This is not your scribe. I’ll tell you who I am in a moment but first let me tell you why I’m here.

I jumped in because I love him, not your charming host but his father, Sarn. I have loved him for years and years, but external forces divided us.

Some of that was my fault.  (That tale is recounted here for free.)

I don’t regret what I did in Enchanted. How can I when everything I did was for him? 

Yes, it all went wrong in the end, but my intentions were pure. I only wanted what was best for him. Isn’t that what matters?

Perhaps he deserves better than me, but can anyone appreciate him like I did? I think not. 

Losing his friendship cut my heart into pieces. But I didn’t go through all the trouble of crossing dimensions just to complain about my situation.

I came to warn him, but he can’t hear me. 

Old foes are targeting my beloved, my emerald-eyed Angel, my Sarn. 

I want to help him, but I can’t. Forces are pulling me back to where our epic friendship began. By reliving it, I might find a way to save him.

‘The keys to the future are in the past.’

That’s what the angel told me. I believe her, but I need your help.

Will you stand with us?

Will you be there when it counts?



And now back to your regularly scheduled newsletter. This is Ran, by the way, Sarn’s adorable son and sidekick. We’ll just keep Shade’s visit a secret, okay?

Papa’s still sad about what happened Enchanted. I’m not, but I got lots of quality father-and-son adventure time in Enchantedseveral glowing gifts, a nice story about the Queen Tree,  and I got to meet her two times. Oh, and at the end, Papa promised me more magical adventures. So Enchanted was a big win for me. 

Now that I’ve reclaimed *my* newsletter, it’s time to head back into the boiler room. So get ready to rumble!

Okay, maybe not. Rumbling with dragons, even the digital kind, might be deadly, and I have too many adventures I want to go on with Papa. He’s right here with me, by the way.


Dragonish Problems part 5

 Missed an episode? Catch up here: part 1part 2part 3, part 4.


When you last saw us, Papa used his magic to turn on the spigot, and water fell, sparkling and pure, into the grimy utility sink. We waited for the Newsletter-Dragon’s reaction.

Last week, Jessica suggested that we try water to lure the dragon away from the boiler system. Clouds of steam were rising from it as the dragon we accidentally enraged last week squeezed harder. We all took a giant step backward even Papa because I made him.

The green magic hates water, and it had a nasty habit of running away from it. But it makes the best shields, so it needed to stay between us and the angry dragon. Hopefully, by putting some distance between the steamy air and us, it would keep generating that sparkly green shield around us.

I eyed it while the dragon stared at the water. So far so good, the shield was hanging around, but Papa looked tense.

“Is your magic trying to hide from the water in the air?” I asked him in an undertone.

I didn’t want the dragon to hear, but she probably heard me anyway. She had really big ears, and they were pricked in my direction to catch every syllable.

“Yeah, but I can hold it. Don’t worry.”

Papa patted me on the head. He’s too tall to reach any other part of me else unless he crouches down or picks me up. A pick-up would be awesome right now, but he needed to concentrate. Protecting me was hard work, and I loved him for always putting my safety first.

Come on, drink the water and leave the boiler system alone. I’m bored with waiting; I thought at the dragon, and she actually flickered a little.

Maybe the 1s and 0s that comprised her weren’t all there. That was an encouraging thought. If we made her angry enough, she might just poof herself back to cyberspace so the repairmen could fix the damage she’d wrought. In fact, the repairment should have arrived by now. So where were they?

I scanned the onlookers. I know one of them called for repairs in between posting pictures of our dragon behaving badly on the interwebs. When my gaze crossed with my teenage uncle’s, he shook his head. All the spectators were from neighboring apartments.

Melinda gave me a tight smile. She was still trying to keep the crowd back. But she was small, not as small as me, but small enough that the crowd could easily creep past her outstretched arms.

There wasn’t much she could do to stop that either. This room was too wide because of the storage rooms behind the boiler-hugging dragon.  Was there anything in them we could use to oust said dragon?

I tugged on Papa’s pant leg to get his attention and hopefully, find out.


“Can your magic tell us what’s behind those closed doors?”

There were six identical doors in a kind of alcove behind the dragon.  Her bum was taking up most of the floor space there. I pointed at the doors, and the dragon glowered at me because I was also pointing at her. Not on purpose, I assure you. She just happened to be in front of those storage rooms.

There were three doors on each wall flanking a third wall which had a shelf wide enough for me to lay on if I were so minded and several big windows that looked out into the parking lot. Faces peered through those windows. They had a fantastic view of the dragon’s spiky back.  They weren’t enjoying the view though.

“Maybe. Let me give it try.”

Papa went all silent again, but that was okay because he was conferring with his magic. He had to make sure it was up for the challenge despite all the water saturating the air.

“That might upset the dragon in the room,” Uncle Miren said in an undertone.

“Maybe, but it’s worth a try. Stay close to me so I can shield you too.”

Uncle Miren didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue the point any further because Papa’s mind was made up, and there was no changing it.


Tune in next week for more magical mayhem.


—Ran, son of Sarn, your *official* newsletter host. Accept no substitutions.

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