Meet The Characters

Dragons, Dreamsellers & spited Spirits

Letisha & Sheridan

Letisha had to stifle a scream as she observed a pair of green-scaled feet with chunky clawed toes that were easily big enough to wear the boxes of a large pair of shoes.  They were poking out from beneath an enormous pink stomach that gleamed like mother of pearl.  A pointed green tail flicked from side to side.  Moving up the visitors’ body, she saw that he wore a red velvet waistcoat, barely held together by three gold buttons.  The gold chain of a watch dangled from the pocket.  Out of the waistcoat hung two reasonably skinny arms, again clawed at the digits.  Letisha craned her neck to look up further, as a long head on a long neck leaned in and came nose to nose, or rather nose to horn, as the monster, she decided it was, wanted to get a better look at her.  It wore a funny little bowler hat that dangled atop two milky yellow horns.  The ears, which were the same mother of pearl pink as the belly, stuck out at a forty-five degree angle to its head.  Two pale yellow eyes glinted hungrily.

  The monster flicked its long pink tongue over two rows of glinting teeth. “I believe you have my order, young miss.”

Mr Dreamseller

“Tell me, Letisha, can I interest you in any dreams today?” asked Dreamseller. “Pardon?” she said quietly, as she noticed that Mr Tempus was barely managing to contain his discomfort. He looked as though he might comically leap through the front window at any second, and run off into the afternoon. She prayed this would not happen, as she did not want to be left alone. “I,” said Dreamseller grandly, “Am a seller of dreams, and the very best at that.” He opened his scrappy coat and revealed row after row of glass vials and bottles, filled with what looked like glittering smoke in a rainbow of colours, some of which Letisha was not sure she could name. A squat little bottle filled with a violet substance, that appeared to turn from smoke to liquid then back to smoke, caught Letisha’s eye. Mr Dreamseller noticed immediately. He took it out and held it up to her. “This one takes your fancy?” “I…I like the colour,” she admitted. “A good eye!” he exclaimed. “What a girl! This, my dear, is what we in the business call ‘Waking Dream’. It is a good strong potion that encourages the most vivid and inspiring dreams! I have sold this to artists and poets across the land!”

Nelson, Duke of Quill

Through the blur of yet more frustrated tears, Letisha took the hand that was offered to her. She forced back a scream as she saw the face of the man who had helped her up. He had a thick purple scar across half of his face. It passed straight over his left eye, which was completely white. However, he cracked a grin and revealed two rows of perfect pearly teeth. “Nelson, Duke of Quill,” said the man, holding out a hand to Letisha. It was missing its little finger. He noticed her expression, “Don’t mind the battle wounds; they don’t hurt like they used to!”

Mrs Grishams Ghost

“Alas!” cried the ghost. “Mr Grisham and I never found each other in the afterlife. He was my true love, you know.” She showed Letisha the image in the locket, of a pale man with sharp features. He had white hair and eyebrows like icicles, and glared right out of the photograph. He and his wife looked well matched. “I’m sorry, Mrs Grisham,” said Letisha, noticing that Mr Tempus looked as though he was about to choke, before the ghost’s face clouded over. “Stupid girl! I am NOT Mrs Grisham. Mrs Grisham is dead and buried and rotten to the bones. I am MRS GRISHAM’S GHOST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”