INKY SQUIGGLES

A journey into darkness. I've played my fair share of retro point-and-click adventure games, so when I peeped moody aesthetic screenshots of this cult classic 2003 horror adventure from Czech developer Future Games, I wondered how it'd slipped past my radar.  One Halloween Steam sale whirlwind later, and I was transported to Black Mirror, the remote ancestral Gordon family manor in Suffolk, 1981. After a 12-year absence, protagonist Samuel Gordon is drawn reluctantly back by his grandfather's mysterious death. Dismissed as suicide by everyone else, Samuel is convinced otherwise and begins his own informal investigation. This leads – naturally, given their sizable wealth and gothic English estate – to the revelation of an ancient family curse. As Samuel confronts the darkness that shrouds his family history, more bizarre, unexplained deaths gather pace around the manor, and he must race to break the curse before Black Mirror claims another victim. The most striking thing a...

'Wow... this seems much more... remote than you made it sound,' my partner, Ricky, said in a hushed tone as we dragged our luggage over the rutted dirt road. The area still bustled with life despite the late hour; stray dogs, untethered chickens and barefoot children roamed under the patchy streetlights. Colourful motorised tricycles passing by to larger towns guttered past explosively, stirring dust and still-hot air. I hadn't visited my grandparents' home in the tiny settlement (it wasn't large or defined enough to quite classify as a village or a town) in Abuyod, Philippines for almost 10 years, and I'd forgotten how otherworldly the area could feel to an outsider – and, despite my mixed race and the ready warmth of my relatives, I, too, was an outsider of sorts. The haphazard arrangement of modest self-built houses and improvised wooden structures among the vibrant tropical trees contrasted sharply with the uniform brickwork streets and fenced-in gardens we...

Cold Bath Street by A.J. Hartley  (with illustrations by Janet Pickering ) , £7.99 (UCLan Publishing, 9780995515574) Publication date: 27 February 2018 My rating:   ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ Despite appearances, most ghost stories focus on the living and the impact the dead have on them. By the beginning of Cold Bath Street , however, protagonist Preston Oldcorn has already died, his heart and watch stopped forever at 9:22p.m. Part supernatural thriller, part mystery, Cold Bath Street is pacey and engaging, drawing the reader in with an unpredictable plot and warmly drawn characters. Hartley casts Preston as a relatable young boy who, like many of us, wishes he'd spoken up for himself more often. Unfortunately, it takes his untimely death to jolt him with this realisation. The extraordinary circumstances in which he finds himself see him face many of the usual worries and desires of a teenager alongside the dawning realisation that he will never again get to act on any of them. Some...

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more.' – 'The Raven', Edgar Allen Poe After spending several years of my early childhood sharing a bedroom with two brothers, coming into a bedroom all of my own was a momentous event. It might have been little more than a glorified closet with hot-pink pebbledash walls (a misguided effort by my parents to designate it the 'girl's' room), but for the first time I had my own space. I filled the little shelves in my space-saving cabin bed with Choose Your Own Adventure and Goosebumps books carefully curated from local charity shops and hunkered in the cubby hole under my desk with friends conspiratorially as though it were a secret hideout. Apparently drunk on the sudden power of establishing my tiny empire, on my first day in residence, ...

Enter if you will, gentle reader, pull up a stuffed armchair by the fireside and join me in a true tale of small-town terror. As young teenagers, one of the biggest and most important obstacles my friends and I faced was convincing all our parents to allow us to stage spontaneous sugar-fuelled sleepovers and backyard 'campouts'. We would listen to cheese-rock ballads on a temperamental Walkman, play pass-the-buck-style dramatic storytelling games, conjecture wildly about our dream futures and generally achieve little to no sleep.