A London Night Shift: From "Short Cuts", a short story collection

By Erik Boman

On the London Underground, a librarian with a side interest in vampire myths debates with a group heading for a night out on town – but his spontaneous lecture has unforseen consequences...
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Erik Boman is a writer from Oxford. He is the author of "Short Cuts" and was awarded with the A.M. Heath literary prize in 2011.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erik Boman
• Release date: Apr 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311187307

Erik Boman

Erik Boman is a writer based in Oxford, UK, where he shares a tiny house with his fiancée, two riotous daughters, a nutty dog and a sociopathic cat.When the sun is up, he designs for a travel website. At night, he writes, or wants to.His bookshelf is a tumultuous mess of speculative fiction, but at its epicentre are Neil Gaiman and William Gibson.The keywords for anything he writes are 'not here' - he's a friend of any text that takes the reader out of this world, and away to other places. Sometimes even nice places.

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A London Night Shift

by Erik Boman

Published October 2014

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This eBook uses some actual locations and family names, however all events are fictionalized and all persons appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living, dead or hiding in the shadows, is entirely coincidental.

Cover image montage by Erik Boman

Copyright © 2014 Erik Boman

www.wanderingmind.net

A London Night Shift

They reached me just as the Underground left King’s Cross Station.

It had only been a question of time. Since they had got on the train some twenty minutes earlier, they had worked their way down the car laughing and shouting, leaving scores of flustered and intimidated people in their wake. One girl, two men, rings and studs twinkling against a blur of leather and latex. Most likely heading for one of London’s countless clubs, although they would probably be in a fight before they got there. Not that they would mind; they were looking for a confrontation, and they enjoyed it. I had been gazing out the window while the train lumbered through the rain-soaked suburbs, hoping that the gang would pass me by. I