False alarm

Dear Mother and Father,

I have some positive news, though it's not so much my doing as an assurance regarding my previous doings. The sawmill man is setting up his residence right across the river near where Miss Gearbox's family lives, which is still within my explosion testing territory. It wasn't my fault that he moved after all! I suppose this means that my efforts to keep my Ashbourne curse experiments out of sight and earshot of the locals have been successful after all.
I've returned to practicing not making things explode, and I am delighted to report that the time it takes for an explosion to happen is slowly but surely increasing. At this rate I might someday be able to seriously study machines without endangering everyone around me!
Someday I will make you proud, I promise.

Love always,
Your Shaqad

It's all about me

Dear Mother and Father,

I have another sin to confess. I had gotten a strange idea in my head that the Ashbourne curse might possibly be broken with sufficient training and practice, so I got in the habit of going into the mountainous wilderness and trying to fix discarded, broken pocketwatches. They usually explode, but as time has gone on, they have gradually exploded slightly less. I have learned several ways to handle them that make them slightly less likely to slip from my grasp and considerably less likely to explode due to things other than fumbling. But here is where my sin comes in: A man who lives between the mountain and the river--near where I sometimes go to practice not making things explode--has started packing up his things to move away. It's not just a trip; he's even disassembling his sawmill. The only reason I can think of that he might leave the area is my explosions. I saw him close up once, and he almost looks like you, Father, without your mask. His face is all burnt up as if he has his own clumsy fool of a daughter to blow up the steam engine she's asked to fix. (By the way, I'm still very, very sorry about that, Father. To this day I cannot believe my own incompetence in blowing up the first thing I was ever asked to salvage into a giant clank. If I live to be one hundred years old, the fourth year of my life will still be burned vividly in my memory and in my regrets.) I think I made a small sad-noise when I first noticed it, and then he yelled at me to get away even though I had been sure I was well hidden in the brush. I hope I didn't offend him personally--but I had thought he wasn't showing signs of committing that incident to memory, so I think it must be the explosions. He probably doesn't like explosions. I didn't like explosions at all for the first few months after blowing up the locomotive, and it was only desensitization from your own frequent Sparkish endeavors that took the edge off of them. (By the way, I am very sorry I failed to be a Spark and forced you to become an inventor yourself. If I were a better daughter, you wouldn't have to waste your adult years on things that should be started from the earliest age possible.)
In any case, I'm thinking of apologizing to the sawmill man for disturbing the peace and for maybe scaring him, but I don't want to upset him all over again. What do you think I should do?

Love always,
Your Shaqad

A cup of memories

Dear Mother and Father,

The boy who sent me out of the mines seems not to have held a grudge against me, for today he brought me (along with several other people) a drink he made all by himself. It was very nice of him!
Unfortunately, when I tasted the drink and immediately recognized it as a kind that was several times tested in order to see if my behavior could be improved, suddenly I was back home with you and Steelhead was nowhere around and it was just as though I had never been lost and I miss you and I miss you so much and I apologize for the run-on sentence. What I mean to say is that my memories were, at the moment, too much to bear, and as soon as I could process the fact that they were only memories and I was actually someplace else, my guilt was too much to bear. I think some people were speaking to me at the time, and I think perhaps I tried to get up and go somewhere, but I can't be sure and it isn't important. I must have walked some more afterward, because I'm no longer in the place where I was given the drink, but I don't remember walking. I remember being with you, and I remember all the things I've ever done to make you need to correct me with tonics and pills, and I remember that I still do those things even now. Do you think that while I'm here I should look for more pills and tonics and try them on myself to see if they help me? I do, as you know, want more than anything else in the world to be a good daughter to impeccable parents like you.
It's a bit sad that it took a drink to remind me how much I love you.

Love always and forever and ever,
Your Shaqad

Evicted!

Dear Mother and Father,

I'm afraid my habitation in the mines has been slightly compromised. I finally met the owner of the furniture I had seen down there, who happens to be a boy not too far from my age. I may have awakened him to introduce myself, which was in itself a rather foolish idea, and he may have become a bit territorial upon waking up. He told me to stay out of the mines. I've moved my things out, except for the animalcules which I threw in the water. I think they will be happier there, anyhow. I had to make a couple of trips just to move all of my possessions! I have quite a bit to my name right now, especially considering that I left home with only the clothes I was wearing, a needle, some spools of thread, and a few pieces of candy. It's remarkable how far I've come. Of course, having too many things to carry at once, I was forced to let a few of them go in order to go about looking for a new shelter without dropping everything continually. I left my pointy tusk pole, four out of five mimmoth-bone knives, one of my textbooks, both of my Landmark devices, and all of my unfinished sewing projects in a rubbish bin. I'm now carrying one textbook, my cheese gun, one knife, my needle, and what remains of my thread. Soon I may have to discard the needle as well, as I won't have any thread left to use it with. I'm glad I already made myself a shawl and boots!
I know in my head that this is a good thing because it will force me to get out more and interact with people, but instead, I keep trying to worry about where I shall go to be warm. It is bitterly cold out here. I wonder if Zaida Gearbox's mother would let me stay in her attic or basement or some such. After all the nightmares I've had about that--about interrupting the Gearbox family's life, I mean--I seem to be rather more nervous than I should be. You always helped me when I was afraid to do things, making sure I did them whether I wanted to or not, and now I don't have you around anymore. I'll just have to do my best. In the meantime, maybe I can at least build a campfire in the woods. I wish I had made a blanket out of all the mimmoths I've squashed. Then I could build a tent out of it, I think, somehow or other.
I know for sure that I can't get overly close to Steelhead Shanghai in the near future. Yesterday I asked a boy coming out of it whether he was Good or Evil, and he got a bit insulted at the question and struck me. My reflection in ice and windows is alarmingly discolored right this moment, but I'm sure it will get better. In any case, I should steer clear of the person or persons I insulted for the next few days.
Looking over the last paragraph, this is so unreal! I did something bad, and I am making no effort to correct it or atone for it! My self-discipline has gone down almost to nothing and I am frightened. Please pray for my wayward soul!

Love,
Your Shaqad

Pieces of the puzzle jammed into place

Dear Mother and Father,

Remember when I got so terribly shaken up because the sea monster was terrorizing Steelhead and all the Sparkpeople and Jaegerpeople and magical folks couldn't defeat him for a long time? I'm feeling like that again now, but I'm afraid perhaps it's in a more enduring sort of way. I mean, a lack of defeating a monster could be and was revoked eventually. But I think my universe has fallen a bit harder now than before and will have trouble repairing itself. I read a newspaper article today, which I wish I could send to you. (Unfortunately, I can't afford to purchase a copy.)
The article said that the "Tong" (as mentioned by Ms. Aaoee-sama) is a group of Shanghai people who go around violencing people. One of their people got killed by someone else, and that's why so many people were around the docks before. It also said there are two other groups competing for power in that area (one of which is identified with a dragon), in addition to a vigilante organization called the Fox Battalion. I already know Ms. Aaoee-sama is a major influence in that area, but I don't think she's associated with dragons or foxes (other than casual shapeshifting by people whose identities are based on other things). She might be the third power the article talked about. It did say that the new people were fairly well-liked, and everyone likes Ms. Aaoee-sama! But still, what am I to think of her group being mentioned along with crime organizations, if indeed she is who they meant? I hope I am misinterpreting everything. The article went on to say that the Jaegerpeople have been sent into the Shanghai district to fight evil twenty-four hours a day. The article says that place is very unsafe for normal folks. All along I had thought the invisible wall keeping me out was there to keep the city safe from me, but perhaps it's been the other way around. Perhaps it's made of angels! Do you think there's any reason in the world why an angel would bother with me? I can't think of any reason at all, but the fact remains that the wall is there protecting me. It's so strange. The Fox Battalion had a notice translated and reproduced in the article which accused the gang folks of all manner of awful things. Did they mean all gang folks, or just the Tong that Ms. Aaoee-sama considers "nothing"? They weren't accusing her of bad things, were they? Or does she actually do bad things?
With all their technology and all their niceness, why haven't the Steamfolks prevented things from getting this bad?? Nobody in Boston ever got murdered! I very, very badly miss when I first arrived and everything was cheerful and sunny and high-tech and everyone knew how to solve any sort of problem. It was never really like that, was it? I miss my delusions.
I must confess that whether or not she is a friend of Valdy, I am more frightened of Ms. Aaoee-sama than ever. I'm not frightened of people very often: Usually I only ever have to be among trustworthy individuals whom I meet through people who are sensible in selecting friends. I suppose I still get nervous in their presence, but that is because I don't trust myself, of course. I know that even the most wonderful people in the world have their limits. Even God Himself has limits after which a person may be flung into Hell!
The word "suspisshion" comes to mind to describe my sentiments right now. Am I using that word correctly? It's the same thing as when the rabbi-person gave us an explanation of the meaning and pronunciation of my name, and you both said afterward that he probably wasn't telling the truth, right? How do you handle suspisshion? What do you do in that case? It needs to be resolved somehow, doesn't it? And yet the same suspisshion makes me more reluctant than usual to interact with her. It started before the article, I know, but now it's worse than before.
I have to interact with somebody in the near future or else I may go mad again. I don't like going mad again. A few days ago I woke up from a lengthy rest to find a small army of evil glowing animalcules singing a Christmas carol at me, each at a different pace so it took awhile to figure out that they were singing the same song. That may have been one of the more confusing moments in my life. I examined the stitching on one of the more clearly stitchy ones and determined it was my own handiwork, done sometime I don't remember. I'll have to look over my older letters to you to see if I made any notes on it. On a related subject, I can't find Squeezy anywhere. He must have gotten away. I hope he's alright, wherever he is.
I also hope my friends are alright, wherever they are. Who are my friends, for that matter? I don't think I can cross Valdy off the list, or Mrs. Lowey or Miss Captain Nacht, and I know I am fortunate to be acquainted with the President of Europe. A lot of other people seem nice, quite possibly up to "friend" levels, although that also has little to do with whether or not they really are nice under the surface. Why can't people be neatly coded by looks like in storybooks? Or why can't you be here to tell me who my friends are and who is safe to be around? That's entirely my fault, I know. I ran away from home in the first place, and now I've all but stopped trying to get to anywhere from which I can't return to Steelhead. It's as if there's an invisible string pulling me back here by the heart. Silly heart-strings. Yet, I'm rather lacking anything else to show me the way right now.
That brings me to an important subject: What will I do now that I know Steelhead Shanghai is far more dangerous than the fairy princess had let on?
What would you advise me to do?
What would Valdy want me to do?
I have some mimmoth-smiting weapons. There's a small chance that I could fight evil if I really, really had to. Would it be a good thing to go near the outside of Shanghai and try to fight evil? I don't want anyone upset at me for overstepping my bounds, and I also don't want to cause a global cataclysm with my clumsiness. But perhaps I should fight evil. Valdy is doing so, after all.
It would be horrible if I tried to fight evil and ended up coming between friends, wouldn't it? I am considering that after so much time assuming things about the people around me, I should just ask who is good and who is evil. That would solve a lot of problems, don't you think? I only wish you were around to be asked.

Love,
Your Shaqad