Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

Sometimes, when I try too hard, the words abandon me. It’s frustrating, sitting at an untidy desk with a mind free of story clutter.
Just think, I would say. Just think like you’ve got a pocket muse who you can call upon. I’d go and make a coffee while thinking about that, trying to make a story about it. Coming back, I set the coffee and biscuits down, then slowly took a seat, but words still didn’t flow.
What would I do, I thought? Well, I’d extend a hand like I was reaching for someone who just came into the room, a dear companion: someone who I wouldn’t be startled to find in my home at three in the morning.
What would I say? Back then, I thought of asking about a fantasy realm. But I hadn’t found the key.
Tonight, though? Fantasy and more. I need…
“Heroes that fly fast. Things that explode. A future with elfin pilots and creeping evil. How do they tuck those pointy ears under their flight helmets?”
That’s the key: ask an impossible question.
The air about me fills with little sparkles, like microscopic fireworks, and a laughing voice comes from my right.
“They don’t wear helmets, silly. Rarified air is nothing to them, and the G-forces involved aren’t a strain for the elder races anyway. They’re the Kestrels of Dhonn Magfal, and they only cede sky to the named dragons.”
I look her way.
“You know, most people would call me mad.”
“Unless they could see us, right here, right now. Then they’d call the police.”
“Why the police?”
“Because your planet doesn’t have the Ministry for the Apprehension of Rogue Mages yet,” she grins, “and I’m very happy about that. MARM are a miserable bunch. No fun at all.”
Wait just a moment.
“You come from a place where they exist?”
“A couple of realms over, actually. But they’re always meddling in realities where they don’t belong.”
I look about my tiny attic bedsit.
“You got opportunities for storytellers back home?”
She leans in close, violet eyes shining.
“You thinking about a change of career?”
With a grin, I lean forward until our noses touch.
“Same career, different reality. Make a change for me to visit you.”
“Seems like it’ll be more than a visit. What about the Kestrels of Dhonn Magfal? They sound like a fun story.”
“Let’s save it as a fallback in case I don’t adapt.”
“Plan B being ‘Reappear as if by magic and hope no-one noticed’?”
“If I’m not screaming to come home after a month, I’m never going to, and an unexpected month away can be glossed over and apologised for.”
Twenty-first century with no family? I’ll be shocked if anyone notices that quick.
She kisses me on the tip of my nose.
“Leave a mysterious note.”
I look at the pad in front of me. What to write?

Going on a trip. Back eventually. Probably.

That’ll do. My last words on this Earth – hopefully. I put the pen down. For once, it doesn’t roll off the pad.
“Let’s go.”