A Christmas Ghost Story with a twist.

On a bustling Christmas Eve, John Mudbury, an ordinary man with an ordinary family, has

been Christmas shopping. Under his arms he carries presents for his wife and three children.

As he starts his journey home, the familiar streets of London, give way to increasingly strange encounters.

Mudbury navigates an increasingly bewildering series of events where the line between the familiar

and the uncanny blurs. With each step, the veil between worlds grows thinner, until he arrives home

with presence in hand and finds things very strange indeed.

I am Tony Walker, and this is Transition by Algin and Blackwood, a Christmas ghost story.

Everybody dies, don't they? Transitioned by Alginon Blackwood, a Christmas ghost story. John Mudbury was on his way home from the shops, his arms full of Christmas presents.

It was after six o'clock and the streets were very crowded. He was an ordinary man, lived

in an ordinary suburban flat with an ordinary wife and ordinary children. He didn't think

them ordinary, but everybody else did.

He had ordinary presents for each one, a cheap blotter for his wife, a cheap air gun for

the boy and so forth.

He was over fifty, bald, in an office, decent in mind and habits of uncertain opinions,

uncertain politics and uncertain religion. Yet he considered himself a decided

positive gentleman, quite unaware that the morning newspaper determined his opinions for the day.

He just lived from day to day. Physically, he was fit enough, except for a weak heart, which

never troubled him.

And his summer holiday was bad golf, while the children bathed and his wife read Garvice

on the sands.

Like the majority of men, he dreamed idly of the past, muddled away the present and guessed

...