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playing fr om a passing car. As he star ted to r un he r emember ed Chr istmas Eve
fr om year s past, excitedly listening to the sound of a car pulling up outside, waiting
for his dad to come home fr om w or k. He r emember ed his mum sw itching off the
fair y lights, picking him up, str uggling against her fir m gr ip being too big to be
lifted. He r emember ed kicking the tr ee and the glass tr ee topper falling to the floor
br eaking. Most clear ly, he r emember ed his dad r unning after the taxi shouting for
them to stop, shouting for them to wait. Shouting for him. He could see the outline
of his father stopping, bent over , str aining for br eath as the taxi picked up speed.
His dad?s face indistinct against the str eetlamps and ear ly evening gloom.
He r ounded the cor ner of the Victor ian mew s and stumbled towar ds his house,
his chest heaving. He stopped, bent over , str aining for br eath. Pushing the door
handle he found it was locked. Dr opping his bags, he scr abbled in his pockets for
his keys in desper ation, but he alr eady knew w hat he w ould find. He?d seen a taxi
dr iving dow n the str eet, away fr om the house. He?d clear ly seen thr ough the
other w ise w ell-appointed pictur e w indow fr om the str eet. All the lights on the
Chr istmas tr ee had been snuffed out.
About the author
Robert Edgar is a writer and academic based in York. He has published on film,
television, popular music and science fiction. His recent publications include Music,
Memory and Memoir (Bloomsbury, 2018) and Adaptation for Scriptwriters (Bloomsbury,
2019). He is currently developing a collection on weird and eerie children?s television
and literature provisionally titled ?Horrifying Children?and texts on folk horror. Robert is
Associate Professor of Creative Writing, in the York Centre for Writing in the School of
Humanities at York St John University
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