How the Firewood Harp Found Its Scallywags

A story that waited… until Splinter arrived.

This story — a tale about a harp, a watermill, and a Grumpy Queen — has been brewing quietly in my mind for about five years. It waited, patiently, to be written. It lived in the background, humming its melody, shaping itself, but never quite stepping forward. Then Splinter arrived.He wandered in from Scallywags Wood, introduced me to his family, and immediately demanded a part in the story. Suddenly the quiet tale I’d been carrying was no longer alone. It had company. It had mischief. It had glowing hearts and twig‑limbs and a tiny creature with far too many opinions for his size. And so Mozart and the Golden Harp grew into The Scallywags and the Firewood Harp — the same story at its core, but with the ingredients gently remixed by Splinter. A different recipe, a new flavour, but still the tale that wanted to be told.Sometimes stories choose their characters.

Sometimes characters choose their stories.

Splinter chose mine