Story-by-story: Winter Wonderland

I published this story here on the blog last December as part of my own emerging tradition of sharing a ghost story for Christmas.

It’s not really a ghost story, though, so much as a tale of horror, in a few ways.

First, it has more nasty physicality than I usually go for – more bone and blood.

And there’s actually a moment in the story that appalled me as I wrote it. Bloody hell, where did that come from?

The answer is, my subconscious, which I tried really hard to set free as I wrote all of these stories, but especially this one.

This story also came out of conversations with my friend Jamie Evans who is a fan of Rod Serling and often talks about the concept of ‘cosmic justice’.

His own excellent stories often follow this pattern: introduce us to someone truly awful, make clear that they deserve whatever they’re getting, then give the reader the satisfaction of watching them get it.

Then there’s the pleasure of subverting, or perverting, the idea Christmas. Many writers of weird fiction, and makers of horror movies, have explored this over the years, perhaps starting with Dickens.

Christmas is supposed to be a happy time of family gatherings, peace on earth, and goodwill to all men. When you lace it with alienation, violence, and monstrous creatures, the juxtaposition can be delightful.

Check out the early slasher movie Black Christmas or the 2010 film Rare Exports for more of that.

Another strain of real world horror is, of course, financial and social.

The narrator of this story knows more about their parents’ money problems than any child should, and is weary before their age. 

“It me”, as people used to say. I grew up poor and, as a child, was constantly aware of what we could and could not afford, and could tell when money was particularly tight.

So I used to do things like tearing up letters about school trips and throwing them away on the way home to avoid stressing my parents out.

I now realise, though, that I had one great privilege: parents who cared for and loved me, and upon whom I could rely. But there were plenty of children at school and on the estate who didn’t have that.

And there are plenty of kids in the city where I live who are dealing with neglectful, selfish or chaotic parents right now.

The lost illustration

One thing I’m a little sad not to have carried over to Intervals of Darkness is the illustration I drew to accompany this story when I first published it.

It’s quite cool, I think. I should probably get it framed and add it to my gallery of spooky art.

Intervals of Darkness will be published on Saturday 7 September. You can pre-order the eBook now.