Far off, in a deep meandering gorge in the Archipelagonian mountains, are the caves where the Time Dragons nest.
Ah yes, they are nesting, which means they are breeding. Soon there will be more. Did you not realise, fools, that TIME is no shallow plaything? Retro-futurism indeed! Ah, you can create a time that never was and never has been nor will be, but you do it at your peril.
As you merrily warp and bend and twist time into all manner of strange contrivances, don’t think there isn’t fallout. The seconds and minutes and hours that are squeezed out of your newly fabricated reality congeal together in the darkest unswept corners of your workshops and form around those discarded wires, fabric scraps, watch springs, gears and clock faces. Gradually they begin to take on shape. Wire bends to make claws and wing struts, springs unravel and form tails, paper, foil and packaging maché themselves into heads, limbs and writhing bodies. Bright, beaded eyes flick open, clawed feet scuttle and wings creak and flex in readiness for the journey.
Stealthily they insinuate themselves through the gaps in time caused by your meddling. Laboriously they make their way to the caves that open from those steep and jagged cliffs that form The Gorge. Patiently they coat the cave floors with lost words, clocks and (oh, these are their favourites) glittering watch chains – a hoard fit for a Time Dragon. Now their nests are ready. They have no more need of your detritus. These are independent beings now. They can give birth to new generations and fly forth wheresoever they please.
Perhaps some day a particularly intrepid traveller with a highly innovative airship might venture down into the gorge of which I speak, might peer into the lairs of these remarkable beasts, might spot them perching precariously upon rocks, twisting their sinuous necks and screeching, “Time no longer!” in hoarse, cracked voices.
Perhaps, though, the Time Dragons will venture forth from their sheltered hideaways and return to the lands their ancestors left. Their numbers are increasing and they are becoming bolder. Woe to you then, retro-futurists!
However should you decide to take destiny in your hands and indulge in some dragon-taming, three of these fearsome beasts are available from the SteampunkDollsHouse Etsy shop. Click on their photos to link to the listings. Lairs (as pictured) will also be available shortly.
Here is Ruby, who moved away long ago. For her the Professor has chosen one of these delicate holographic scrying mirrors.
Young Henry, here, travelled to the East Coast of the United States some time ago and promptly changed his name.
Little Molly has, he knows, gone to an excellent new home in North Wales. However he has decided to send her some more books, as she can never have enough.
Nevertheless, we do have our own line in suitably eccentric tree decorations. The 
The odd vintage watch cog, key or teapot may be thrown in for good measure.
Customers also seem to love our tiny items – 
Browse the 
“But that means, ma’am, that I’ll have to leave you and the Emporium, and whatever will you do, ma’am, to get the visitors to come and read the books if I’m not there to encourage them?”
Molly clapped her hands in delight and agreed that this was a splendid idea. I then told her I’d found her ladyship’s partly written journal in a dusty corner of Steampunk-Shrunk Towers and asked Molly if she would kindly take it with her, so that Josephine could continue to keep a record of her adventures.
“Well, young Jasper,” said Hugo Fforbes, in the deepest and most sinister voice he could manage, “If I pull my cape around myself just so, do you think I could pass for Count Dracula?”
I, Silvester Bawdrip, would like to offer a very warm welcome to my new premises, which open today, October 5th 2019.
I have to confess, I had some difficulty explaining the situation to my intended, Mistress Ectophemia Fleabane, when she discovered this photography of Lady Steamington in my drawer.
We will be journeying through picturesque hillside villages in the Mendips and ending up on the esplanade of the delightful resort of Weston-super-Mare. Only Mrs S will be able to enjoy the scenery, of course. The rest of us will be squashed into that suitcase of hers. Even more annoyingly, she has decided to bring along Mistress Ectophemia Fleabane and her hovel. The smell is quite distasteful, to say the least. It is best not to know what she is brewing in that caudron.
Coggleford & Son are bringing along a selection of their beautifully restored furniture and there is a slightly alarming ‘spooky section’, influenced, no doubt, by you-know-who.
The ones I can clean up and get working are either sold as they are to automaton makers or turned into pretty clockwork twittering birds that sell as fast as I can make them. The ones that have seized up completely are taken to pieces, the parts being upcycled into our miniature gizmos and contraptions.
I hunted in an old box of bracelet charms and found a few dragonflies, a butterfly and a bee. These were painted in jewel colours and most were stuck to the casing. Another was threaded on to a length of copper wire and fixed to the wheel in the centre.
Constructing a pair of arms and hands from epoxy putty was relatively easy. One held the net and was molded to the flailing metal arm. The other held a diminutive magnifying glass, cobbled together with a few bits from the stash. It fitted neatly into the now empty housing from the bird whistle. A pair of small black sleeves and cuffs dressed the arms in a suitably formal fashion. My entomologist might lack all other body parts, but those he had were at least well attired.
The mechanism was housed in a small cardboard box, decorated with an assemblage of suitable images. A few coffee stirrers were sawn up to make a cover for the spring, so that the sharp, snapped steel edges would be safely covered.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 