171. _The Bottledragon_

Matt Lewis and I are members of Cardiff Writers’ Circle, a collective of local writers who gather once a week to foster the art of writing in all its forms. We meet alternately in-person at the Heath Park Community Halls or in-between on Zoom. The CWC has been at it since 4th May 1947, making this the oldest continuing writers collective in Wales.

At the last Zoom meeting, Matt read another installment of his adult fantasy novel, Stickyfingers. The story is told by a protagonist posing as Sandy the waitress at a party in a magical mansion in order to do a little thievery, only to get caught up in a murder and its investigation. The book is a comedy.

At this reading, we first meet the bottledragon being carried aloft, over the head of a naked little homunculus as he dashes through the party and under furniture. The bottle is bigger than the imp. The narrator only catches a glimpse of something curled up and scaly inside the bottle and dreads the idea that it could be a bottledragon.

When we next meet the bottledragon, Sandy the waitress is unwillingly assisting Dodd the detective, who is investigating the murder. But this time the bottledragon is out of the bottle, someone having deliberately broken it, and the creature is doing a serious amount of arson entirely out of proportion to its tininess.

Sandy happened to have collected a Victorian lachrymatory bottle in her thievery and offered it to Dodd to offer it to the bottledragon, now bottleless.

“Now, make sure you show it the bottle before it vaporises your face off.” When Dodd holds out to the dragon the new bottle, the dragon, “puts its mouth to the bottle neck and poots a puff of fire in there.” The leftover dregs evaporated and the small dragon, ignoring reality to fit through the narrow opening, climbed in. “It makes a few contented turns around then curls up at the bottom. Briefly, its orange eyes are bright through the glass, watching us, then they go out as it goes to sleep.” At this point, all is well and Dodd becomes enthralled with the bottled being. And I, who have always loved dragons, am also enchanted.

The bottle can be put into Dodd’s pocket and it doesn’t matter if it is bumped or swayed about, as long as the bottle stays intact. Sandy the waitress goes on to explain, “And when you get home you can put it on a shelf. It’ll just come out to hunt spiders and beetles and things, may say hello to you if it’s feeling friendly. That’s how magicians used to keep them.” Who wouldn’t desire such an exotic pet?

For months, an empty bottle sat in the corner on my kitchen counter. It formerly contained Nikka Whisky, an excellent whisky distilled in Japan. I found the bottle appealing and unusual. It was clear glass and box shaped, squat, square-shouldered, and practically no neck at all. There was nothing fancy about the bottle, as if the distillery were prepared to rely entirely on the liquor’s merits unadorned. I had no plans for it, could think of no use for it, until Matt read the bottledragon episode.

In the week following, I went hunting for a dragon to put into that glass jar. That wasn’t hard to do. In Cardiff Y Ddraig Goch (the Red Dragon) is ubiquitous. I explored the diverse plush versions found in every tourist shop, all of them Chinese made. I sought the biggest possible and tested them in my hands to see how small I could squeeze them. Having made my choice, I took it home and that night went to work.

I am proud to say my estimates were right, but there were moments during this creative endeavor when I had my doubts. Getting Y Ddraig Goch through the narrow neck of the bottle took nearly two hours. That is because my hands would cramp from the effort and I would have to rest them. The dragon would only go in a fraction of an inch at a time. I also had to use the blunt end of chopsticks to poke it through while squeezing it.

My remaining fear was what shape it would take once inside the bottle. It was a relief that, once inside, the creature swelled back into its original size and shape. It was done and I was proud of the result. You cannot imagine it getting in. You certainly aren’t going to get it out. It was an adorable bottledragon now possessed of a grin. My labor didn’t feel at all pointless.



The only disappointment came at the last meeting of the season, before we began the summer break and would not meet again until September. This was an in-person meeting, a party to celebrate the camaraderie of us local writers. Matt did not show. The bottledragon was put on display.

I brought the bottledragon home, but it didn’t stay long with me. There were people at Starbucks and Pen & Paper who said they would take it if Matt didn’t want it. I contacted Matt. He worked part-time at the local library. I brought it to him and put it on the desk where he was working. He was delighted, enthusiastically so, and said it would be given a place of honor in his home.

Matt emailed me about the bottledragon. “He has a good spot where he can see my screen and maybe help me finish writing his book.”

Mr Bentzman will continue to report here regularly about the events and concerns of his life. If you've any comments or suggestions, he would be pleased to hear from you. 

You can find his several books at www.Bentzman.com. Enshrined Inside Me, his second collection of essays, is now available to purchase.