Christmas Tales of Terror by Chris Priestley

From malevolent snowmen to Father Christmas - with a difference ... Chris Priestley is on absolute top form in these atmospheric, clever and thoroughly chilling stories. Add a new kind of thrill to the fluffiest of seasons with seven brilliantly conceived examples of why you'd better be good at Christmas time. For stories which can be enjoyed by the whole family, unwrap these perfectly formed festive tales of terror, each with a gripping yarn and genius twist.

Singing carols may never seem quite the same again ... especially after dark.

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Ever since I cracked open Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror back in 2008 I've been a fan of his blend of the macabre and sinister, and since I'm a sucker for all things Christmassy, there was no way I was going to miss this one. The question I needed answering was whether he was going to maintain the high standard I expect from him or if the edginess of his work was going to be eroded by a capitulation to popular sentiment. CToT -currently only available as an ebook-features seven short stories, opening with 'The Green Man'.

The Green Man tells the story of Stephen Levenson, home for the christmas holidays and trying avoid arguments with his mother. What he finds this year though is that his mother has embraced a spirit of change and has had his stepfather gather armfuls of holly from the ancient hill on their lands, a hill that his father had taught him never to trespass on. His intention to avoid arguments crumbles as he tries to fathom why she would do such a thing, but for the sake of a good Christmas, he grits his teeth. But the fear and respect his father treated the hill with weren't misplaced, and when night closes over the house there's more than Santa's generosity to worry about. The twist left me staring at my kindle mouthing 'whoa' for a moment before I greedily tabbed into the rest of the stories.

Trying to decide which of the seven was my favourite has been far harder than I thought it would be. Each has so much going for it and the quality of the writing and the sheer macabre wonder of the twists in each is consistently high. After annoying Liz by thinking out loud (aka arguing with myself like a madman), I've decided on "In the Bleak Midwinter" for the sheer tragic horror of it. It's also, now that I think about, the only one of the stories that doesn't see any of the characters dying..! 

Midwinter starts off nice enough, with choirboys from the local church out carol-singing to raise money for repairs to the church roof, and quietly skimming a small percentage off to divvy out amongst themselves. Amongst them is Simon, who unfortunately owed the local bully a wad of cash after succumbing to the recent craze of playing cards. When the others decide to call it a night, Simon argues for them to do a few more houses, but is outvoted and they start heading back to the village, guided by the light of their sole lantern and singing for the fun of it. It's then that one of the other boys says that they shouldn't be singing in a graveyard. Of course, in the way of boys around the world, they immediately begin to sing louder.. and soon discover that they should've listened to their friend. What follows is so wonderfully chilling it makes me weep to think that of the drivel that the BBC is wasting money on instead of bringing stories like this to more people. 

Suffice to say I should never have doubted that Priestley would deliver anything less than a smorgasbord of dark delights. Do what you must, but buy a copy of the Christmas Tales of Terror for whatever e-reader you have. Read them to your kids or save them for yourself. You won't be sorry.

You can visit Chris's website here or visit his blog here.

Lost Christmas by David Logan

Eleven year old Goose is lost. It's Christmas, his parents are dead and now his dog Mutt has gone missing. Those around him aren't doing much better: his Uncle Frank's wife has walked out on him and his nan is losing her mind.

But then Anthony appears - a man who seems to know everyone's secrets but nothing at all about himself...

I'd been keeping Lost Christmas aside until mid- December as a pre-Christmas thing. Maybe it was a subconscious premonition that work was going to leech any kind of Christmassy spirit out of me as the usual Christmas deadlines loomed. Even just looking at that gorgeous, glittery cover is enough of a Yuletide palliative.

But what's it like? Is it fun? Is it Christmassy on a scale that Buddy would approve of? These were all important questions that needed to be answered

LC opens with Goose waking up on a crisp Christmas morning in Manchester to discover that his parents have bought him a puppy for Christmas; for a bitterly short time it's a perfect morning. Then his dad gets called in, and one cruel twist of fate later both he and Goose's mother are killed in a car accident as she's driving him to work.

The story skips a year ahead, and we meet a very drunk Frank as he staggers home from the pub that's become his home away from home. As he weaves his way down the street even he can't miss how the lights around him are acting strangely, and as they clear he sees an oddly dressed man in the street. A man he would've sworn wasn't there a moment ago, and who seems as perplexed as he is about this. After a brief meeting, they part ways.

While Frank is stumbling through his first meeting with the mysterious Anthony, a very different Goose is breaking into a house, from which he steals a gold bangle, adding it to the stash that he's going to show his fence- Frank. It's the first link in a chain of events that will bring the three of them together and in the process reveal how one person's actions can impact on the lives of those around them.

David Logan is a screenwriter, something which is apparent in the how lean the writing is and how quickly the characters are established (and happily they remain distinctive throughout). Take Goose's nan as an example- she doesn't play a particularly large role, but even so she's such a sweet and lovely character that you can't help but feel sorry for her and cheer when she helps Goose out of a bind with the local cops. Goose and Anthony are the stars of the show though. Goose with the tough, uncaring wall he's built around himself, through which we're allowed glimpses of the wounded boy beneath, none more so than when his beloved Mutt vanishes- his pain and the whirlwind of emotions that it drags to the surface are very real. And then there's the enigmatic Anthony, a man with no recollection of who he is or how he came to be in a snowy Manchester on Christmas eve, but who discovers a gift for seeing into the lives of anyone he touches, but at a terrible cost.

The story's set in Manchester, but it's a fairly neutral flavour of urban landscape that comes through. But I think that's actually a good thing, as it means most of us will be able to identify with what is described, most of which have become standard features of contemporary British cityscapes.

The story gallops along at a fair pace (it all takes place on Christmas eve- huzzah!) once Goose and Frank have a glimpse of Anthony's strange talent, which also raises the question of who, or what, is he? I had my theories (none of which were on the money, as it happens) and as things started coming together and building to the finale I wished I was reading this at home rather than on my commute as I suspected I'd be missing my stop.

I had been scratching my head at how David was going to wrap this all up, although I'll happily admit I was having too much fun reading it to worry too much. That's the thing about Christmassy themes- you know it's going to end well, and you're happy to buy into it, to suspend the cynical disbelief that you've armoured yourself with throughout the year, and enjoy the gentle torture of seeing things seemingly getting worse until it's time for the Hell Yeah. It's part of the tradition and the magic- it's a time when you're allowed to watch a movie you might have seen half a dozen times already, or re-read a dog eared old favourite just to get a fix of guilt free feel-good.

That's what Lost Christmas delivers- a warm and touching message of hope and salvation without being schmaltzy. It forced me to swallow a rather embarrassing lump in the throat to stop myself from panicking fellow commuters by blubbing like a lost child. I walked home from the station buoyed by an unexpected sense of bonhomie and then proceeded to drape fairy lights across the lounge and dining room. 'Nuff said, really.

It is logical? Nope. Are the why's and how's answered? Not really. Did I care, and should you? Hell no. Would Buddy approve? Hell yes. Go pick something off one of those interminable literary prize lists if you want deep and meaningful.

This is Christmas, and I like it just the way it is.




Lost Christmas is the novelisation of the movie (starring the marvellously talented Eddie Izzard) which will be airing for the first time on Sunday 18th December on BBC 1 at 17h30.

You can follow David Logan on Twitter and visit his website here.