Your train terminates here

"...Looking along the side of the train, which curved slightly away from me I could see that I had been the very last person to get off the train. The platform was empty. Everyone else had gone. The station sign read Tassenmere. The train had not terminated at Farnham after all..."

Supernatural Tales #15 is out now. My story "Last Train to Tassenmere" is nestled within its pages and I'm really looking forward to finding out what people think of it, as it's a story that's very close to my heart. Without wishing to give anything of the plot away, the idea for the story came from two different recurring nightmares I regularly had when I was in my twenties. Thinking about those nightmares even now brings a chill to my spine, and I was really pleased with how well the mood of those dreams translated across to the page. I really felt that I had nailed the weirdness I was trying to convey. It doesn't often happen, but when it does, you realise why you're writing in the first place.

You can get your copy of ST15 by emailing the editor directly here. David Longhorn runs a PayPal account for subscriptions and will reply with a payment link.

Supernatural Tales also has a webpage.

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Turning Fifty

I woke up early this morning on my 50th birthday. It was as bright outside as it would ever be at 5am due to it being the summer solstice, the longest period of daylight time. From here on, the nights get longer. Sitting in bed with a cup of tea I started to think about some of the first stories I wrote, and a few memories came back to me. The first thing I remember writing was in my penultimate year in primary school, so we're talking 1983-4. Successfully combining two major phobias of mine, it was called "Tarantursnake" and took up a whopping four pages of my English workbook. I remember getting a decent mark for it, but the only thing I could remember from the story itself was a man hanging on for dear life to a pole suspended over a pit of tarantursnakes. In fact, that may have been the whole thing. I'm not so sure it followed any conventional rules of narrative. Later, in 1987, in high school, a collection of us smuggled copies of the newly published paperback of

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Huw Langridge

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