Heres an early Christmas present for everyone. I wrote this story on the bus to work one. Enjoy :)

Crowded

By

Paul S Huggins

Jim hated crowds. Every morning he had to face his fear and deal with the hordes of people waiting for the commuter train. He dreaded his journey in to work. He knew that one day it would kill him.

He knew that his fears were irrational. When his journeys were complete, he often laughed at his fear. It did not change the fact that it gave him physical reactions.

Cold sweat, excruciating headaches and a rabbit stuck in the headlights stare, to name but a few.

Ten times a week he had to face his fear. Ninety minutes a day, five days in seven. Seven and a half hours a week lost to his mind in turmoil.

He stood at the bedroom window gazing out, getting ready to force himself to leave the house. Monday morning was the worst of all. Especially after a weekend of being able to choose what he could do. His decision would have been to remain in his own space.

The rain splattered on the dripped down the window in rivulets. Jim hated October. Autumn was an indecisive season, never quite sure if its summer or winter. Not warm enough for days on the beach and not cold enough to dress like an eskimo.

His mouth and lips were dry as he closed the front door behind him, despite having just downed a warm sweet mug of tea.

He walked apprehensively the few streets that drew him along towards his enemy. He fixed his eyes on the circled rail sign that signified the gates to hell.

Bile started to rise, the taste of his corn flakes coming back to haunt his taste buds. Cold sweat formed on his brow as he watched rushing business men filter from all directions all heading for and entering the open doors to the station.

He dawdled outside before joining them and swallowed back sickness. He made sure his pack was done up and that the pockets on his jacket were secure. He tried anything to occupy him, prolonging his descent to fear. Lastly, he retrieved his rail card from his wallet. He was ready as he would ever be.

Jim joined the funnel and passed into the bustling ticket hall. It was busy, individual queues from the ticket machines and the news kiosk greeted him. He joined the third set of lines heading for the barriers that opened out into the platforms.

The other travellers scanned their cards and tickets to gain entry. The edged through one by one. Jim’s card was in his hand, nervousness welled up inside him. A green tick would appear as each person entered. There were too many positives; there should have been a red ‘X’ by now denying entry due to a damaged or creased ticket by now.

As he edged closer, he wiped his slick forehead with the back of his hand to dispel the sweat. There was one more passenger in front of him before he had to make the entry. The red ‘X’ flashed up, Jim had a split second of relief. The man tutted loudly and groans were audible from the rest of the waiting queue. With a second try, he had success. A green tick and the barrier swung open.

It was Jims turn. His hand shook as he inserted his rail card in the slot. He let out his held breath as the green tick appeared and the mechanical arm let him pass.

He moved through towards the platforms and his nemesis, the crowds. Everybody looked the same. Black suits, briefcases with brollies or rolled up newspapers under his arm.

Jim was the odd one out as always. His shimmery green bomber jacket, backpack and beanie hat set him out in the crowd like a sore thumb.

He blinkered himself and jostled through towards platform three. The crowd closed in on him. Indistinct faces passed quickly from all directions. Every person in the crowd looked the same. They all ignored him and seemed to look through him.

Claustrophobia now added to his fears. He had never been at this station when it was so busy. He glanced up and saw the platform number suspended from a girder. It was Platform 3. The crowd now felt like a single organism, moving and pulsating. The crowd’s quest was to crush his life. He was held so tight he had to sway with them; he could not even lift his arms.

Panic started to well up from depths of his gut. He began to hyperventilate. Jim pushed hard trying to make space for himself. The crowd seemed to pack even tighter. He saw space. He pushed on making the gap wider. Then he was free. Momentum kept him moving across open concrete and then into open space, falling. A bright light hurried towards him in mechanical precision, then nothing.

The platforms were empty of people.  The eight fifteen Sunday mail train was the only train, having made an unscheduled emergency stop at platform three. The driver sat in his cab, in shock. His hand was still stuck in place on the emergency brake. He looked out through the crimson tinted windshield.

Jim does not hate crowds anymore. Jim does not fear anything at all. Jim is dead.

Copyright (c)2013 Paul S Huggins

Review of 'The Cold Heart of Summer' by Joseph Freeman

Its been a while since I last posted, I'm hoping to make it a more regular occurrence by posting reviews of every book I have read as soon as I've completed them. Todays offering is from one of my favourite members of the gentry.

Joseph Freeman has great skill in writing a dark, suspenseful story. ‘The Cold Heart of Summer’ is the latest offering and is no exception to the rule.

After the sudden death of his father, Jerry begrudgingly revisits the town of his childhood. A town that has a dark past, a dark past that seems to be coming back to the fore. As an outsider, Jerry senses that something is on the verge of happening. A late returned library book seems to hold the key to events that are snowballing out of the control of reality.

Throughout the book episodes unfold that are both frightening and sometimes incredibly gruesome. Situations include; a family with strange infectious growths in their back garden and a middle aged estate agent whose infidelities throw him into the path of a terrifying and dangerous spectre.

Most disconcerting was the ongoing tale of Briony. She is an ex-drug addict desperate to turn her life around and make things better for her baby daughter. Hazel, her social worker, is hopeful that she will achieve her aim, but is frightened by the child in ways she cannot explain, fears that the child’s mother unbeknownst to Hazel shares.

Witchcraft, ghosts, strange beasts and even black shuck draw the reader into a dark story and drag the reader deeper into an intricate web. The range of characters was diverse, from the sceptical outsider to the lord of the manner and everyone in between.

If I were to liken this offering of Joseph’s to any other writer, I would have to pick two. Peter James for the plot that keeps surprises coming from around every corner, and distinct smatterings of James Herbert in the gruesome tales that unfold throughout the story.

I really enjoyed the variety in this book, the picture of a town collapsing under a supernatural catastrophe was caught perfectly encompassing every aspect of a large village.

If you would like to learn more please visit http://www.josephfreeman.co.uk/

Bye bye bike, hello who knows?

It's the end of an era.  Sad to say my trusty kawasaki has gone of to pastures new.  At the moment he's resting in my local bike dealers showroom waiting to impress the next rider.  It was a good bike and maybe one day I'll get another kwakka. Over the past twelve years I've always had a bike,  it does feel odd at the moment. 

Unlike some people I don't fall in love with my rides, I like them but when it comes down to it my bikes are just machines, mind you they're pretty and fast.  Some of the ones I've owned very fast (hence the penalty points for speeding). I have been saying for the last couple of years that I could not handle another winter on two wheels.

For me it’s another break from the norm.  I think that occasionally you have to change stuff; Sometimes takes a shove (or a broken hand in my case) to prompt a change.  I now have the mental freedom, something about not having to be in control to continue journeying, whether it is to and from work or generally in life.

One question I always hate in job interviews is, 'where do you see yourself in five years?' well, my answer to that is 'who the fuck knows!' what I won't want to be doing is the same thing day in day out for the previous five years. In addition, retired and stinking rich is not the right answer either.

That's just me though, I can understand many people would like that sort of security, but me, I'm just a seat of your pants type of guy. 

Bus Wanker

Travelling on the bus can be a funny thing. During the commute your occupy your couple of square feet of fabric and disappear into your own little world.  As a commuter you see the same people every day, we are totally creatures of habit we always sit in the same seats. There is a real cross section of society, young, old, rich and poor alike.  In addition, characters there certainly are some of those.

One of note on my morning journey in to work gives me a smile every day.  He looks pretty close to retirement, an old chap,  he wears the same wax jacket and deer stalker hat every day, whatever the weather,  and he rushes down the aisle before the bus stops having to be the first off the bus, despite it being the last stop on the run.

You barely acknowledge each other despite seeing your fellow travellers daily maybe the occasional nod or smile. The only time we interact is when something happens. Like when the bus is late, the timetable changes or something of note is happening outside the confines of our hardwearing fabric seats.

Do you know what?  I love it, as an ‘observationist’ I find it the most uplifting part of my day,  I even wrote this on my way home occupying my double seat taking in the atmosphere.

I am a bus wanker and proud of it! 

(Just to be clear that doesn't mean I masturbate on the bus, watch the 'inbetweeners')

My New Book 'Two Dogs & Other Tales'

The trials and tribulations of life are never kind on the writer. There are times when the World at large just seems to get in the way, four fold when you have a family relying on you too.
Despite that I have still managed to pump out a new book.
'Two Dogs & Other Tales' is a compilation of five stories that I have written over the last year. Unlike my first collection the world count comes in at nearly three times more.
The first story 'Two Dogs' is almost a novella on its own. Its about a mans change from rough ex drug addict to successful businessman, under the hope and protection delivered by the bequest of Two pottery dogs. Figurines with a secret.
Drakes Blitz, the second story, follows a draft dodging criminal as he lines his pockets from the misfortune of others by looting bombed out houses in blitz torn London. Sheltering from the determined enemy bombs his life takes a strange twist.
Then we hit the only zombie tale in this book, Affected inside'. Set a short time in the future Chris Styles is charged with going undercover in a modern flagship prison. Reports of prisoners never leaving have the authorities worried about whats going on in the privately run concern. Chris discovers a cover up so serious that  even the outside world becomes at risk from annihilation.
What would you do if friend offered you a hundred pounds to face your fear. In 'The dare' a drunken night in the local pub becomes a ghost encounter for one of the three friends. with deadly consequences.
The final story, called 'The Last Blood Hunter', follows the solitary life of a modern day vampire. David had successfully lived alone for many decades. One night a hunting mission goes wrong, luckily he is whisked away from almost certain incarceration by a mysterious blond woman.

None of the five stories have been published elsewhere and I'm particularly pleased with them.

If you find the above synopses interesting please do pick up a copy and let you know what you think.
Thanks for reading
Paul

East Anglian mysteries, ghosts and me

At last I have got back to some of my writing projects. I had been in a bit of a dark place in recent weeks but thanks to a broken hand my mind is now clearer than ever!!! That said, I'm right handed and thats the one I bust, so the act of writing is a little strenuous than is has been.

Now a question to my friends and fans. Do you like to read REAL stories of ghosts, legends and folklore?

The reason I ask is because for the last few months I have been compiling and researching many stories of the strange from around East Anglia along with some of my own odd experiences, and to you, my friends, I would like to offer a taster. Below is a short extract.

And please do tell me what you think:

The fellows garden in Christs College, Cambridge is reportedly one of the most beautiful of all the university towns colleges. On the night of a full moon, you may come across one of its spiritual residents.

It is said that the spirit of an elderly man wanders dejectedly around a pair of mulberry trees that grow there. It is actually quite a sad tale. It is suspected that the elderly man was a murderer. It is unfortunate as the murder victim was in fact the only doctor capable of saving his loved one’s life. The result was that she died of whatever affliction ailed her.

The old man now wanders the garden at full moon filled with regret for his actions and sadness for his loss.

After reading the details of this story, it made wonder about the origins of the old nursery rhyme ‘Here we go round the mulberry bush’ especially as renowned poet, John Milton, had studied there. One of the mulberry trees has been marked as ‘Milton’s Mulberry Tree’ as he spent some time sitting under them writing.

But alas, the origin of the rhyme actually comes from Wakefield Prison. It was here that prisoners were exercised by running around a mulberry tree.

Jesus Christ, The Messiah or Worlds first Zombie?

With the rise of the zombie in literature and film, I've noticed more and more the suggestion of Jesus, one of the many stars of the book called the bible, that he was one of the Worlds first zombies.

BUT, that's not to say zombies weren't about. I had to re-read the Resurrection story as a reminder, it had been a while!! From my reading I have come to understand the following;

After Jesus died on the cross, his body was buried in a tomb donated by a man called Joseph. A guard was placed at the tomb, just in case someone tried to steal his body, fair play.

On the Monday morning (Early) his ex, Mary, went to the tomb. Then an angel came down, magically moved the rock covering the entrance and sat on it. He told Mary that Jesus was already risen and on his way to Galilee. So in theory nobody actually saw him leave the tomb. Now then, something else happened there which I will come back to shortly!!!

The angel told the ex and her mate to tell everyone Jesus was back. without proof???

When the eleven disciples finally met up with JC they worshiped him, but some doubted! how many and who doubted is omitted. So in reality they is no real proof he rose at all let alone came back as a zombie.

IF he did come back he was walking and talking, and probably breathing so to all intent and purpose ALIVE and not the walking dead.

Just jumping back a couple of paragraphs,
Matthew Chapter 28 verse 4: "And the guards shook for fear of him (the angel), and became LIKE dead men.

Now they are Zombies :)

NOTE: This is purely my opinion, I don't want to start a religious war!!!

A Change to the current programming

For two days only, that's Thursday 14th March and Friday 15th March, both my self published books will be free through Kindle. This will be the last time. The time for giving my work away will then be over.

I've had many stories published in anthologies and I'm happy with that, but in the future there will never be a free novel or compilation by me again.

My new book is well underway, this time I've turned away from the zompocalypse, this one is working up to be a paranormal mystery. Not really a change of direction, more a maturing of writing style. There will be much more work and research going into it that my previous efforts, just ask any writer, none can sit back and say 'That's it, the story is done.'

If you do wish to download my two books for free, just remember. 'Zombies, Ghosts, a Psycho and a fight' is like a taster of my style, six short stories varying subjects, they were written while I was still new to offering my work for others to read. 'Beyond Isaiah' is only just a novel barely clearing 50,000 words. That was pretty much second in order to the first book. Everything after 'beyond' has got better. The more I write the finer I hone my craft.

If you like, tell your friends, if not, tell me, I want to know what I have done wrong. Here are the links, for God sake don't download if you're not going to read them.

US http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Isaiah-ebook/dp/B00AIEU56C/
UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/Beyond-Isaiah-ebook/dp/B00AIEU56C/
US http://www.amazon.com/Zombies-Ghosts-Psycho-Fight-ebook/dp/B008NUXF3S/
UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/Zombies-Ghosts-Psycho-Fight-ebook/dp/B008NUXF3S/

Salutations to all.

Haunted Collector impresses me a little

Here in the UK 'Haunted Collector' is broadcast on 'Watch' channel and is on just about every night. If you haven't seen it yet its worth a look.
It's a documentary following the cases of John Zaffis and his team as they help out people tormented by the paranormal. Their research is by far the most impartial I have seen. If a natural explanation is forthcoming they will uncover and debunk it.
On the other hand if they do find anything out of the ordinary they often discover it connected to an object in the building being haunted. I have seen it said that people accuse them of seeing something they like so the get to have it, I disagree they do actually state that they are looking after items in their museum of the paranormal, and anyone can have them back. The facts are usually pretty overwhelming, and if it was me I'd want the item as far away as possible.
They use EMF detectors and are surprisingly skeptical about a great deal of what they find, often finding natural explanations like nearby power supplies or even fluorescent lighting. I've also seen them use old school techniques which is nice to see, common sense things like placed objects, talcum powder and hanging string.
They use EVP as well which is very interesting albeit sometimes unreliable due to modern overcrowded airwaves, but it does in most proven cases to seem perfectly reasonable. 
Absolutely no mention of orbs which is a relief. 
John has quite a pedigree, his uncle, whom he learnt his trade from, was Ed Warren. Ed and Loraine Warren, for those that don't know, were very active in paranormal research. Some occurrences that they have experienced have even had films made out of them. Amityville for one, and a TV movie called 'The Haunting' about a family called Smurl who were being terrorized by demonic spirits. That story was the inspiration behind another movie called 'The Entity'.
In conclusion I really enjoy the show and its impartiality, although it does occasionally seem a little contrived. I'm impressed by the professionalism.
Thankfully there are no screaming ex-childrens TV presenters or orbs.

Paranormal or Para-idiocy?

I like to learn about the paranormal. Recorded events, detection techniques, stuff like that.

So why oh why do the programs depict that sort of thing in such an idiotic way. There's a plethora of shows that have over theatrical presenters and employ 'spooky' effects to get their 'Stories' across  it's purely entertainment. I want and like to learn. I want to know what techniques are used, I want to know the science.

There's a distinct  lack of seriousness to the whole subject. They have plenty of programs about mad men living in woods and aliens running the world that come across as realistic and factual. Why not bother with something that has mystified people for centuries?

www.paulshuggins.co.uk

An intricate web of fear

Review of 'Vermilion Dawn' by Joseph Freeman

This is, by far, the most atmospheric and gripping story I have read for a long time. Joseph has a wonderfully eloquent writing style and certainly knows how to weave an intricate web.

Jim Grant is a police detective, he is part of a team trying to track down a barbaric killer. A journey that takes him to the edges of even his own sanity and past.

I could easily imagine the winter landscape as it seemed very similar to the area I live. Beautiful and idyllic in the summer, but very lonely and sometimes barren in the winter. An area where friendly in the daylight, but eerie and threatening in the darkness.

The characters are believable and like the rest of us, not perfect. They all have their fears, faults and worries. 

It was the first, and most recent, of Joseph's books I have read, but it won't be the last.

Time to see what all this blogging is about. 
My first meaty post will be done later on, I'm kicking off with a brief review of a book by my good friend Joseph Freeman.