About one year ago, after another baffling and stroke-inducing morning of travelling to work on the overpriced disgrace that is the London Underground, in which it became impossible to catch any train anywhere near to where I worked, and then impossible to get above ground, and finally even impossible to move below ground, at the height of summer when it was about 40 degrees below ground, and I arrived at work two hours late for work after being buried somewhere beneath Oxford Circus … my chest goes tight as I remember this … when I arrived at home that evening, I turned the computer on, sat down and wrote a story as if the devil was behind me.
Solaris will be publishing the story this November in an anthology called End of the Line, edited by Jonathan Oliver.
Excellent, the underground can be creepy as hell.