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The Protagonist Speaks

Interviews with the characters of your favourite books

Month

September 2025

Harold Bergman (of The Wichita Chronicles, by H.B. Berlow)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a Jewish private detective who is rather introspective after coming back from WWII. He is here to talk about his life as a policeman before becoming a private detective, and about the dark underbelly of society where shadows dance with malicious intent and faith emerges as his sole weapon.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was the only child in a Jewish household in Wichita, KS. When I wasn’t reading Torah and Talmud, I snuck in a few short stories by Black Mask writers.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

Most of my friends came from temple or school. My Jewish friends had dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer. I decided to become a cop.

What do you do now?

I put my desires to be a detective sergeant on hold and enlisted after Pearl Harbor. I made it all the way to December 1944 when my foot and leg were shot up. I’ve got an annoying limp that I do my best to ignore. I became a private detective because it made about as much sense as returning to the police force or becoming a rabbi, like my father wanted.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

I was just about to propose to my high school sweetheart, when a wealthy older lady’s chauffeur, shall we say, escorted me to her home to locate a missing ‘companion’. It soon wound up with connections to a gangster who died 25 years prior.

What did you think as you uncovered the leads in the case?

Every lead I turned up related to a gangster named Eddie Adams who was killed in 1922. It didn’t make sense…until it did.

Continue reading “Harold Bergman (of The Wichita Chronicles, by H.B. Berlow)”

Jasper Ashford (of Little Hamlin Chronicles, by Sarah Ashworth)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a high-school student, juggling school, life, and magical training. He’s here to tell us about supernatural occurrences, a shipwrecked redhead, and a mysterious song.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

Well, it all depends on how far back you want to go. If its my early childhood then I grew up in an orphanage in a not so glamorous part of town. The place itself wasn’t too bad, the staff taking care of us were pretty decent. It’s just there wasn’t always enough to go around so kids were basically fighting for scraps, couldn’t really afford to be weak there. Fun times.

In my later childhood until now I was adopted by a pretty sweet lady who took me to her home on a small island. It was nice, she’s not wealthy by any means but she lives a comfortable life and it was just nice to have my own bedroom. Though I scared her when I was hording food in my room when I first moved there. It took a bit of time but I became secure enough to not do that anymore.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

There was one time at the orphanage when me and Eric decided to steal the cookies in the kitchen. It was a rare treat for us and we wanted them. OK, I say we decided it was more I woke Eric up in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let him go back to sleep so he went along with me to get it over with. His words, not mine. We had a blast though and got to enjoy the chocolaty goodness of the cookies.

Another fond memory was when I found my magic spark. I tried to pickpocket a woman and she saw me do it. I remember backing away and holding my hands out in front of me and poof I fired a pink cloud in her face and ran. She eventually caught me but didn’t turn me in. Instead, she adopted me because in her words I reminded her of a younger version of her and she saw my potential with magic.

I had stuffed dragon which I keep in my closet and cuddle it every now and again. Hey! Dragons are cool OK!

What do you do now?

Right now, I’m just a high school student who’s juggling school, my magic training, finding interesting things to write about in the school paper. Also going on some strange adventures which sometimes involve getting into trouble but I think it breaks up the monotony a little bit. Wouldn’t you agree? Sure, I fall asleep in Mr. Hughes’ class a lot but the adventures are worth it.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Well, it all began with my friend Eric being kidnapped, can’t leave that guy for five minutes without something happening to him. I thought he’d abandoned me again and I was angry as we had only just managed to patch things up after all the craziness from before. It was only when I found evidence that he didn’t leave of his own free will that I started to look for him. I reluctantly teamed up with Mel who had hurt and betrayed me before and we ended up going to the mainland to search for him and bring him home.

Continue reading “Jasper Ashford (of Little Hamlin Chronicles, by Sarah Ashworth)”

Weylin & Asurei (of Stone & Word, by Anne Pengelly)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a young boy with a special magical gift and a travelling assassin. They are here top talk about their world, and what happens when ancient seals begin to crack.


Tell us a little about where you grew up.

Weylin: Fenward. A river village where nothing ever changed, or so it seemed. My earliest memories are of chasing fish through the reeds, listening to my mother’s voice carry over the water. It was safe, small, a place where people expected you to stay and grow old in the same patch of earth. I would have been content with that once. But now the seals are breaking, one by one, and Fenward has become a memory instead of a destiny. The world is demanding more of me than I ever thought possible.

Asurei: I didn’t grow up anywhere worth remembering. My childhood was an apprenticeship to hunger. Streets teach you quickly who you are, or who you’ll have to become to survive. I became sharp. I became fast. And eventually, I became a Ghostblade. The Order of the Ghostblade forged me into what I am: an assassin who steps out of shadow when a name is given. My past is smoke. My present is steel.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child?

Weylin: A carved top, rough and unsteady, made by my father before he died. It never spun straight, always wobbling across the floor, but I loved it. I used to think if I could just make it balance, I could fix everything that had gone wrong, bring him back, stop the grief from swallowing us. Looking back, I suppose that was the first time I believed broken things could be mended. That belief is what carries me now.

Asurei: Toys are for children who have time to play. I didn’t. But I did learn early that people can be bent and broken like wood or glass. Fear was my toy, manipulation my game. The first time I discovered I could make someone dance to my tune, it was intoxicating. But if you press me for a softer answer… once, long ago, I had a ribbon, pale as moonlight. It was torn from me, like everything else. I still remember how it felt between my fingers.

What do you do now?

Weylin: I walk the world, whether I wish to or not, because the seals are breaking and something old and vengeful is stirring beneath the earth. The words I carry, the stones that answer me, they’re part of it. I didn’t ask for this burden, but if I don’t stand in the breach, who will? Fenward no longer needs me; the world does. And so I go on.

Asurei: I kill when the First Flame commands. A name is spoken, and I make sure the voice that spoke it is never silenced, or that the name belongs to a corpse. I am a Ghostblade, feared because I never miss. But sometimes, in the quiet after a mission, I wonder what I might be if I wasn’t only a weapon. Redemption is a dangerous thought for someone like me, but it lingers, like a shadow that refuses to leave.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Weylin: I’ve walked roads I never imagined, met people who carry more secrets than smiles, and learned that magic listens, but not always kindly. The seals are breaking, and with each crack, something terrible strains against its bonds. I don’t know if I can stop it, but I know I have to try. That’s the shape of my adventure: stepping forward even when I’m not certain my feet will find solid ground.

Asurei: Adventure? Don’t insult me. What I’ve lived is blood, betrayal, and shadow. I’ve taken lives and unmade kingdoms in silence, and the world calls it ‘necessary.’ But I’m beginning to see that perhaps necessity is only another word for chains. Maybe that’s what this journey is teaching me, that I’ve been bound all along, and the knife at my belt can’t cut the ties that matter most.

Continue reading “Weylin & Asurei (of Stone & Word, by Anne Pengelly)”

Willy Jones (of A Night in Annwn, by Owen Jones)

Dear readers, tonight with us is a shepherd who lost his will to live after his wife’s passing. After collapsing and waking up in a hospital he soon realises he made it to the Welsh Afterlife — but things aren’t as he had thought they would be.


Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was born and grew up on a mountainside, although it was only a small mountain, near Brecon in South Wales. My parents had a tiny cottage there. It was very quiet; we had no neighbours, so although we didn’t own the mountain, it felt like we did. The only road to the top passed by our house, but few people used it.

I was an only-child, my father was a shepherd of his own flock, which roamed freely on the mountain, since there were no animal predators. My mother took care of us, and made things, mostly foodstuffs, to sell in the village on a Saturday.

Perhaps it was my nature, or perhaps it was the environment, but I grew up a quiet, thoughtful, but not lonely, child. I loved my parents, and our lifestyle, although those feelings were never expressed openly. It wasn’t done in those days. I was equally happy helping my Mam in the garden or kitchen, or my father with his sheep, which, although they wandered freely, always came to meet him on ‘their spot’ at 08:00 AM.

I liked school, but not as much as being on our mountain. I left as soon as I could, at fifteen, I think, to help my parents. We were a Christian family, but really only enjoyed singing hymns in the village church on Sunday mornings. Our community’s real belief, which was not incompatible with Christianity, was in Annwn. We sometimes discussed it among ourselves, but never with strangers

Annwn is the ancient Welsh, perhaps even Celtic, word for the pre-Christian, Welsh Heaven.

When the early Roman missionaries arrived, they persecuted us, so they say, because Annwn is underground – some say under the mountains, which we can see a little way off from our cottage. The Romans thought that meant that we were Devil-worshippers, which was untrue. That’s probably why we all go to church, enjoy our singing, but don’t discuss religion with outsiders.

We remember what that can lead to even 2,000 years later.

Continue reading “Willy Jones (of A Night in Annwn, by Owen Jones)”

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