Thursday, January 25, 2018

Paul Bridgeman ~ an interview and his novel ~ When You Walk By Night

Paul Bridgeman

TITLE: When You Walk By Night
RELEASE DATE: September 2017
AUTHOR: Paul Bridgeman
CATEGORIES: Horror/Dark Fantasy/LGBTQ
ISBN: 978-1974477982
IMPRINT: Dark Serpent

I have loved ghost stories from a very early age and by the time I was nine or ten years old I was scaring my brothers with bedtime stories of my own! I always wrote other stories but only really showed my brothers as I was too shy and worried that people would laugh. I was delighted to find creative writing an escape from daily life in my teens. I would often use my artistic skills to illustrate and even create cartoon strips of my stories. However, for many years my pleasure in art and storytelling was mainly shared with close relatives and lovers. I worked for both big soft drinks companies of certain colas and at Westminster, which meant that I have been lucky enough to travel all around the world, which does inform some of my stories, however most of my stories are based in Wales, which is my home country and the place I love best. I lived in Thailand for many years where I worked at Rayong University, teaching Business English. I learned to speak, read and write Thai and to cook their delicious food and to perform their unique massage. The culture of Thailand also sparked my art and writing like never before and I sold my art to clients in Thailand, Japan and the USA. When I returned to Wales I had a successful exhibition of surrealist art called “Genius? Genius!” and I decided to take a course in Art, Design and Illustration which lead to a Batchelor of Arts with honours in General Illustration. This was followed by an ignition of my passion for art and writing again and I began to write and paint with abandon. I was invited to exhibit at New Designers 2012, the most prestigious and largest illustration exhibition in Europe. I was very proud of this and my work received good attention, I even signed autographs, which felt surreal.! A few years ago, I met author David Owain Hughes (Look him up!) and he introduced me to Ravenwood Publishers and the lovely Kitty. It still took a huge nagging session from my Mother Rose and my husband Damian to make me offer up my stories for publication. To tell the truth I had forgotten about sending the stories out at all. So, when I received the email from Kitty offering publication I almost gave Damian a heart attack with the noise I made. When I told him and my Mother they almost deafened me right back! Imagine my delight when I found that other people liked my stories. I sometime wonder where all these dark, spooky and kinky stories come from, I am just glad that they do come to me I hope that you will enjoy my stories and check in with me now and again. I will put up descriptions of my stories and maybe even excerpts of them, I will share my own artwork for characters in my books on my blogg at and also keep you up on gossip and future publications. I really hope we will become friends and then I want to thrill and scare you all to death Mwaahaha Love to you all Paul Bridgeman.


Q: How would you describe yourself as a color? Think personality here. Are you a light and airy pastel person, or more of a deep, dark, sultry and mysterious color?
A: I think I would be a deep pulsating red with a glowing centre, because I am a sensualist, I love to look, smell, listen, taste and touch, so, yes, pulsing red.

Q: Are you a morning person, or a midnight candle burner?
A: I wake up right away, but I also stay up late, this means I nap in the afternoon, but I mainly write at night, hence the late nights

Q: Tell me one thing about each of the four seasons you like. It can be anything.
A:        Winter = Frost on the dead leaves crunching under your feet
            Spring            = Seeing the Earth come back to life, despite our efforts to kill her off
            Summer =Just love the sounds of warm winds in the trees and going out feeling warm
            Fall = Autumn is my season and the turning leaves are why

Q: Tell me something you would like your readers (fans) to know about you.
A: I have sold and exhibited my art all over the world UK, Japan, Thailand and USA

Q: If you could morph into any creature, what would it be?
A: An Octopus
            If you don’t mind me asking, why?   
A: Because they are intelligent and very flexible, they can survive at great depths and I would be able to view underwater life without all that burdensome equipment.


Q: When did you start writing and why?
A: I started making up stories to scare my little brothers and friends. My brothers still blame me for their issues now Haha

Q: Where do you get your ideas?
A: Out of the blue, a conversation, a TV program can send my mind down a line of questioning, reading when you think wow this would be interesting if it went here instead of there and even on occasions songs and very often dreams, the best ones just pop up in your head and you have to write them down that very moment! Take heed young writers!

Q: How did you come to write your genre of choice?
A: It has always been Horror for me, I guess because it can be scary and erotic and often both

Q: What do you think is the hardest part of writing a book?
A: Knowing when to leave something as finished and not tinker with it

Q: Which element of book writing is the most difficult for you?
A: I have often looked back at a story and a new and better end pops

Q: What is your favorite part of writing?
A: When I am in the flow and the words are coming and they are good. When this happens I have to go back and check that I haven’t left out words, it is like being possessed


Q: What are you working on now? Would you like to share anything about it?
A: I am working on a full length novel called “Bringing Them Back”, I can’t say anything about it because it isn’t finished, but my trusted friends and family that read for me are all nagging me for more, so it’s on the right track and writing it feels so good! I’ll tell you about it when it’s due out

Q: Do you have a new book coming out soon? Tell us about it.
A: “On Your Way Home” is my next Book. It’s the story of a young boy who moves back to his parents village and is horrified to find that the road home from his friends house has no street lights. As he walks up the lane he begins to feel a pull in his stomach and the hairs on his neck stand up. A feeling of horror is emanating from a side road and he tries to resist, but in the end the fear wins and he runs the whole mile home. That night he wakes to find a figure standing in the corner of his bedroom, a total absence of features,but red glowing eyes glare at him and from that moment the battle lines are drawn, but can a Twelve year old boy beat an ancient evil? Out next year! Lol


Up ahead there seemed to be a darker point within the darkness. As James approached it his eyes adjusted enough to see it was a lane turning off from the main road to Pen-Y-Cae, all the same he crossed the road from right to left. The cold was emanating from that place. As he passed he felt a pull down low in his stomach, as if something had linked to him, pulling him towards the inky black lane across the road.

Q: How can we find you? Do you have a web page, FaceBook page or any buy links?
A: Yes, I do. Here are the links.  

KEYWORDS: Extra-dimensional beings, lesbian, gay, bisexual, nymphomania, Prostitution, Brothel 

Let me take you for a walk by night, I have dark stories to tell, You won't regret it.

Take a walk with me to the end of your street, where the lampposts end and the darkness hides dancing, skipping horrors. Waiting for us are a Copy-cat killer who picks the wrong guy to copy. A strange epidemic that is not quite what it seems and has consequences for us all. An ancient Djiin who trades in souls and loves a twist in his deals. A girl plagued by nymphomania who is going through some deep changes. An exclusive, high class brothel with an interesting charging policy. Inter-dimensional horror on a human farm. A collector of cursed books and Objet D’Art, with a very nosey wife. A group of flatmates terrorised by a possessing spirit with murderous intentions and a sweet girl who would do anything for love. Oh! And Vampires. I can see them now. Come on, take my hand they are getting impatient. . . 

White Out – From When You Walk At Night

It was a cold crisp winter night in Wales when it happened. People were rushing home in rapidly darkening October night. My fingers were stiff with cold and aching in the joints when the snow began falling. Luckily my bus arrived on time and I sat at a seat near a heater as I headed home. The snow gave the street lamps an orange aura as it fell and when I got off at my stop I noticed a faint musky smell in the air. It was both familiar and intangible at the same time. Unable to place it I hurried on to my house where a nice, warm cuppa awaited.

As I ate my tea, a couple of sausage sandwiches and that cup of tea I mentioned, I watched the snow as it slowly transformed my garden into a mini-wonderland. The Rowan tree looked particularly pretty with its’ dusting of snow on branches still thick with berries. Above the branches rose the moon, looking huge and yellow as it crested above the houses across the railway track from me. All sound from outside seemed muffled and comforting, far off. It was a perfect night. One that we would remember for quite a while, if not forever.

In the morning, I woke up feeling chesty, coughing hard as I showered. The steam seemed to help a little, but once I left the house the choking feeling resumed. Everyone I passed on the streets seemed to be the same. Well, it was the time of the year for bugs, so I guessed that was what it was. Once I was on the bus to work the coughing was worse, everyone on the bus clearing their throats and coughing hard. As I walked up Queen Street my head began to ache and felt fuzzy. Everywhere people were coughing, it seemed this bug was going to get everyone this year.

My work mates were standing near the fire exit smoking, I didn’t smoke myself, but it was good to catch up with each other before work, so I often joined them, the topic of conversation was of course the cough everyone had. It seemed that there were no exceptions. I tried using my asthma pump and even that didn’t help me. My chest felt like it had metal bands restricting it, I felt awful by midday.

Our company sent us all home, you couldn’t hear yourself think over the noise of people choking or clearing their throats and as most of our business involved the telephone we were as good as useless. On the way to the bus I noticed a lot of the shops were either closed or were in the process of closing.

The queue for the bus seemed endless and the sound of coughing made me nervous for the first time. Surely though it would be a simple cough, nothing to get concerned about, just that it is very contagious, more an irritation than a real threat to health. I walked back from the bus with my neighbour, of course the same conversation was covered again. Mrs Jones told me that the cough was all over the country not just here. They were advising people to cover up because of the snow and had warned there was more to come tonight.

When I got home my head was banging and my throat felt swollen and sore. I looked in my bathroom mirror and my throat looked very red and inflamed too. I also noticed light brown swellings on my throat, they looked like smudges gone mad. I had some flu remedies in the cupboard and made myself a mug of it, there was also cough medicine in the fridge. I couldn’t see the date of expiry, but if the medicine didn’t kill me it could only help. I put the cough medicine in hot water and sweetened it, like my Mam used to do when we were little ones. It seemed more comforting that way, always had. As if thinking of her had summoned her my phone rang “Hiya Mam, you okay?”, she didn’t need to answer I could hear her and my dad coughing.

“This cough is terrible Babe. Have you got it?” I told her yes. “They say that it is all over the world. Not just here, something to do with the snow.” I hated that she sounded so frightened.

“It’s just a cough Mam, it will pass just keep warm and take your medicine”

“That’s what your Dad is saying too, but I think it’s frightening I can hardly breathe”.

We talked like this for a while, I think I re-assured her of the impotence of the cough and we said goodnight. I fell asleep right away and when I woke up two hours later my ears were ringing and my skin felt clammy, unpleasant to touch. I stood and the room swam. I almost sat back down but made it to my feet. I began to shudder and shiver and realized my temperature must have raised to fever pitch. I went into the bathroom and to examined myself in the mirror.

It was a total shocked, my skin was white, not the pale pink we call white but an absolute white. Under my eyes were more of the brown smudges. Under my arms and in my crotch, were swellings where the original smudges had been. Now they were red and painful. I washed my face hoping it would come off and when it didn’t I panicked and ran the shower on high, scrubbing wildly at my flesh, even grazed my skin in places. The water seemed to run off my skin and where it stayed it formed droplets that sat on the surface. I wondered if I was hallucinating? I touched my skin again and it felt unbelievably soft, almost powdery. I dried off and put on my dressing gown. Looking out of the window of the front room, snow had fallen again, maybe another five inches. I was about to turn away when I heard a moan from my neighbours garden. I couldn’t make out if it was human or animal the sound was almost just a ragged breath as much as a moan.

I ran to the bedroom and got dressed, my neighbour was elderly, if he had fallen in the snow the difference between life and death could be minutes in these temperatures hyperthermia was deadly the older you were. Clothes on, I pulled open the back door and vaulted the fence, the exertion slowed me down and I was wracked with a barrage of coughing. There in the snow was a vague shape totally covered. I knelt down and began digging the snow away. The shape was too small to be Mr Kennedy, I thought perhaps it might be a child or an animal even. The snow finally parted and there it was.

I drew my breath in hard, there lay a dog. At least I thought that was what it was. It was covered in transparent slime and its’ hair was falling out in huge clumps. The bald patches were white and had the same brown smears that my own had. Its body was giving off an exceptional heat and it let out a whimper as I touched it “There, there boy” I said and wondered what exactly I intended to say to calm the sick animal. I stood up and everything swam again, lights bloomed in my eyes and I realized if I was going to help the dog I had best get myself and it indoors. I knocked Mr Kennedys’ back door, the lights were on but there was no sound from inside. I had no doubt that he was sick too. Possibly worse than myself and flat out in a delirious sleep. I knocked again, louder this time, but with the same result. I turned and despite my disgust at the state of the dog I picked him up and placed him over the fence on to one of the deeper drifts.

I got him in and took him into the bathroom where I washed him in hot water. His hair just slid off, even under the gentle flow of my shower and when I turned the shower off the dog lay bald and trembling on the tiles. I went into the living room and towelled the dog off speaking softly to soothe it as I worked. I found some clean towels and wrapped him in them and lay him by the radiator to keep warm. The dog made no noise at all, but his skin was on fire, so I guessed he wasn’t dead. I returned to the bathroom and cleaned myself up again, I was covered in the dogs’ clear gunk from rescuing him.

I unblocked the drain of dog hair and found myself a couple of duvets. I would sleep on the sofa tonight, close to the dog. I felt better knowing that I wasn’t alone even if the dog was sicker than I was.

When I woke up in the morning I went to run my hand through my hair. I was bald as the dog?

What was going on? Find out in “When You Walk by Night” by Paul Bridgeman


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