Monthly Archives: December 2019

2019 the end is in sight…..

2020 looking forward

As the end of the year approaches, there are two choices- look back and reflect on the year that’s coming to a close or look forward to the year that is about to dawn.

Personally, I’ll look forward if that’s ok with you.

I’m looking forward to sunrises, sunsets, beach walks and new paths to travel.

20190410_0638517420190609_21232820190601_15311620190708_123541

Oh… and the goal for 2020?

It’s a simple one….to write the last part of the Silver Lake series.

Happy New Year to each and every one of you. Thanks for the love and support and I look forward to sharing the journey through 2020 with you.

love n hugs

Coral xx

 

 

A Little Piece of Silver Lake for Christmas

FB_IMG_1576095513950.jpg

Sitting at the kitchen table, Melody was very carefully writing her letter to Santa Claus. On the opposite side of the table, Lori was helping Jesse with his letter. At only three years old, the little boy couldn’t write yet so Lori had helped him to cut out the pictures of the toys he wanted to ask Santa for from the flyer that had been in the Sunday newspaper. For once the little boy was content to sit still and use the glue stick to add his Christmas wishes to the sheet of paper. Lori had already written “Dear Santa” at the top of the page and “love from Jesse” at the bottom, warning her son that the pictures had to fit in between.

“Hey,” called Jake from the doorway. “What’s going on in here?”

“We’re writing our Santa letters,” replied Melody, holding hers up for her daddy to see.

“Very neat, Miss M,” praised Jake with a smile. Like her mother, the little girl was a perfectionist. “Do you want to go into town to mail them after lunch?”

“Yes!” shrieked both kids loudly.

“Ok,” said Jake. “We’ll walk into town later. There’s a special Santa mail box near the bandstand.”

“Mommy, will you come too?” pleaded Jesse as he glued the last picture to his letter.

“No,” said Lori, putting the lid back on the glue stick. “I need to do some work this afternoon.”

“Daddy, can we go get hot chocolate with marshmallows after we mail our letters?” pleaded Melody, gazing up at him with his big blue eyes.

“Maybe.”

 

It had snowed over the area the night before, blanketing the beach and surrounding area in three inches of soft powdery snow. As he walked along the beach, Jake watched the kids run on up ahead, smiling as they occasionally pelted each other with snowballs. Every few yards they would flop down into the snow and make sandy snow angels. He smiled, treasuring the precious moments with his family. Both kids were over excited; both of them counting down the sleeps until Santa came.

“This way, you two!” he called as they reached the path that led up to boardwalk near Funland.

Much to his surprise, they both came running towards him, slipping their tiny hands into his without being asked.

“What are you wanting Santa to bring you?” asked Melody as they reached the boardwalk.

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Jake, stalling for time. “Some new running shoes. Maybe a new guitar.”

“You’ve got lots of guitars, Daddy!” stated Jesse bluntly.

“And you’ve got lots of trains but you still asked Santa for another one, didn’t you?” teased Jake.

“I think Mommy wants a new computer,” said Melody, changing the subject. “She was calling hers some bad words.”

With a laugh, Jake admitted that Lori had indeed called her laptop some choice names after it crashed and deleted two days’ worth of work.

As the family group walked along the snow-covered boardwalk, the kids dragging Jake over to explore each of the small Christmas houses that had sprung up. The red Santa mailbox stood on the boardwalk opposite the bandstand, suitably lit and signposted.

Carefully, Jake removed the letters from his jacket pocket and handed them to the kids. Pulling his cell out too, he took some quick photos of them mailing them off to Santa then suggested that they pose beside the town’s large Christmas tree for more photos.

“Ok, guys,” he began as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Who wants hot chocolate?”

“Me! Me! Me!”

(Credits to the owner of the photo Elliot MacGuire Photography- photo is tagged)

If you want to catch up with all things Silver Lake then the links are below:

Amazon.com links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

 

Amazon.co.uk links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

ws_Merry_Christmas_1440x900

Have you got Christmas all wrapped up yet?

20181210_172208

It’s that time of year where your life is ruled by lists – gifts still to buy, food to buy, gifts to drop off, friends to visit ….. I could go on and on but you get the picture.

I decided to throw extra chaos into my Christmas preparations by heading off on a mini-UK tour doing 3 rock shows (more on that story another time) so life has been super busy over the last few days.

But, for this week, I’ll keep it short and simple.

Books make great last-minute gifts!  And they are a great shape to wrap and make the perfect present, especially if its all topped off with a festive bow.

If you’ve asked for a Kindle for Christmas, they are also quick and easy to download.

So, in case you’ve missed them, here’s a few links to help with that last-minute gift idea or to treat yourself to a good read to chill with on Boxing Day.

31068-53

Amazon.com links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Amazon.co.uk links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VXDSC1M

 

31068-53 (1)

 

Amazon.com links –

Impossible Depths https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Amazon.co.uk links –

Impossible Depths https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

 

31068-53 (2)

 

 

Amazon.com links –

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XSQHG71

 

Amazon.co.uk links –

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XSQHG71

 

Plus there’s the recently released Shattered Hearts

SH 6x9 front cover lighter 3

Amazon.com link

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

Amazon.co.uk.link

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

And let’s not forget about Ellen

31068-53 (3)

Amazon.com link

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FYHKR44

 

Amazon.co.uk link

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07FYHKR44

 

You can never have too many books!

 

 

 

 

Silently Watching at the Long Night’s Moon

 

dark-angel

It was one of those rare crystal-clear sunny December days and the air around him was crisp, the cold biting on his cheeks. There wasn’t a living soul to be seen for miles. Eyes fixed on the road ahead, he ran. Mile after mile, he ran hard and fast, grateful for once to be free to run at his true pace, instead of running at a pace fitting of his physical age. He was angry. He was frustrated. He was scared… no, not scared… uncertain about what the future held for him.

Over the quarter of a century that he’d followed the monthly ritual to the letter, there had been many changes in his life. He’d watched his children grow up, leave school, graduate from university then venture out into the world on their own. Each of them had left home before they graduated in their chosen field; each of them had emigrated and were now scattered to the corners of the globe. Without them, the family home grew quiet. Fate dealt him a cruel blow when a short illness claimed his beloved wife. In the five years since her sudden death, the family home had grown empty, void of life. Now that he had finally retired from his job, his never-ending future stretched as endlessly in front of him as the road he was running along.

Life was lonely.

In all that time, he hadn’t aged a day. By the time he reached his late forties, he’d had to “fake” ageing to prevent questions being asked. Adding grey to his hair had been easy. Explaining the lack of wrinkles had been harder but he’d dismissed it as “good genes” to curious friends and colleagues. Hiding his physical abilities had been frustrating, to say the least.

Hiding his vampire urges had become a way of life. Initially, he’d used the excuse of “checking out a new trail” as a convenient cover story to travel further afield to hunt. He’d even resorted to creating fictitious non-local running buddies to allow him more freedom to seek out fresh blood. Now that he lived alone, he could come and go as he pleased. In his heart though, he missed the days of “lying” to his family about his excursions. Over time he had grown adept at covering his tracks, choosing his victims with great care.

Reaching the cattle grid, his chosen turning point, he turned for home, the sun now behind him as it sank lower in the sky. Pounding out the miles, he tried to ignore the two pain points on his back. Gradually over the weeks, the sites of his wing buds had grown hard and tender. Over the past few days, he had become aware of the skin stretching and tightening to the point of being painful. Now, as he pounded his way up the final steep section of his route, he felt the taut skin split and tear. He howled in pain across the empty landscape.

His wings had begun to emerge……….

 

Perched on the church roof, the dark angel sat watching the sun set. Over the years she had tried to nurture her fledging and ensure his safety but he had proved to be more strong-willed than she’d anticipated. In the early years, he had been an attentive student, proving to be a quick learner, but, once he mastered feeding himself, their paths had rarely crossed. With a heavy heart, she had been forced to watch from afar. Occasionally, she still followed him at a discrete distance purely for the pleasure of watching him hunt. There was a gracefulness to his movements that she had come to envy.

In her heart, the dark angel knew that she had broken many of the rules laid down by the Court of Elders when she had created him but she had gone to great lengths to keep her tracks well-hidden. To the best of her knowledge, they remained blissfully unaware of the runner’s existence.

And, for both their sakes, it had to remain that way.

A steady pounding rhythm echoed through her and she turned to gaze up the hill towards the railway bridge. Smiling, she sensed his return as he ran up the street towards his home.

Blood stained the back of his running top when he twisted to look in the bathroom mirror. He hadn’t really needed that reflection to tell him his shoulders were oozing blood. Carefully, he peeled the sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head, wincing as the soft material grazed the broken skin. As he stepped under the jet of hot water in the shower, he cried out in agony. He could almost feel the wings growing and bursting through. Could they really be developing so fast?

He hated to admit it but he needed to see her. Needed to see the dark angel.

Next morning, after an uncomfortable and largely sleepless night, he walked down the hill towards the graveyard. He’d picked up a small white pebble from a plant pot beside his front door and was turning it over and over in his hand as he walked.

It had been almost three years since he’d last summoned her……

When he reached the cemetery, he bounded up the steps then walked purposefully towards the bench, placing the pebble in the centre of the slatted seat.

Without a backwards glance, he headed home to wait.

Late afternoon, as he enjoyed a cigarette in the garden, he watched the sky redden as the sun set. As the yellows turned to gold then red, he wondered how long it would take the dark angel to respond to his signal.

Sensing a subtle movement in the air behind him, he spun around.

“Son of Perran,” greeted the angel warmly. “It’s been a long time.”

Glancing round, he checked that there were no lights on in any of the neighbouring houses and that none of his neighbours were in their gardens.

“Relax,” she purred. “The shadow’s hiding my presence from prying eyes.”

“Come inside,” he invited, indicating the open back door.

“No, thank you,” she declined politely. “I prefer to remain outside. Now, you summoned me?”

He nodded.

“Are you going to tell me why or am I going to have to guess?”

“Come inside and I’ll show you.”

“If I must,” she muttered, reluctantly following the runner into the house.

With a small smile, he watched as the dark angel wandered around his kitchen, a curious look on her face. She ran her slender hand over his granite countertops almost marvelling at their smoothness.

“Not what I expected,” she murmured before turning to face her fledging. “Now, what did you need to show me? I’m sure it wasn’t your kitchen.”

“This,” he said as he pulled his loose hooded sweatshirt over his head.

Slowly, he turned around and stood with his back to her.

“Oh,” she said, taking a step towards him.

From the two designated spots in the Celtic tattoo that spanned his shoulders, two small wings were forming. Having burst through the skin twenty-four hours earlier, his wings were now growing rapidly. Already the first feathers were clearly visible.

“Well, are you going to magic me up a potion to reverse this fuckup?” he growled as he felt her run her cool hand over his blossoming wings.

“No.”

“No?” he echoed sharply. “What do you mean no?”

“Son of Perran, I told you twenty-five years ago that there was nothing else I could do,” she explained.

“So, what am I meant to do?”

“Let them grow. Let them flourish,” she said casually before adding, “Then learn to fly.”

“Fly?” he yelled. “Fly? You think I want to fucking learn to fly? How am I meant to live with wings? Please tell me that.”

“Enough, child!” she snapped, her patience finally worn thin. “The time has come to accept who and what you are! For over a quarter of a century, I’ve watched over you. I’ve taught you. Some lessons you learned better than others. Now though, you are on your own. I can’t protect you anymore.”

Pulling her own majestic wings around her, the dark angel moved towards the open door.

“Wait!” he called out.

She paused.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger before his Rabbia Sanguigna surfaced, he said, “I appreciate that you’ve tried to help me after this transformation went wrong. I do. I know I broke some of the rules but they were rules you never told me about until it was too late. So, humour me a few moments more, please.”

With her green eyes blazing with ager, the dark angel nodded.

“How long will these things take to grow?”

“About a week.”

“How easy is it to use them?”

“You’re athletic. It’ll come easily to you.”

“Is there anything else you should have told me or taught me before now?”

His last question hung in the air. For a moment or two, he wondered if she was going to answer him then she bowed her head.

“Son of Perran, I have failed you,” she spoke slowly. “I broke many rules when I created you. A price will need to be paid in time. For now, my final piece of advice to you is to leave. Go into hiding. Avoid large gatherings. Avoid cities.”

Before he could reply, she slipped out of the door.

When he went to look for her, she was gone.

Closing the door, he realised that the time had come and that he needed to move on. The time had come to close up the family home indefinitely and move into his private “bolthole.”

Several years before he had seized a rare property opportunity and purchased one of the fisherman’s huts on the shoreline. Over time, he had renovated the semi-derelict building, ensuring that it was water-tight, warm and furnished then he had left it empty.

The time had finally come to take up residence.

Over the course of a week, he put his affairs in order, circulated a rumour that he was going travelling now that he had retired then began to sort through his belongings. He kept it simple – keep, leave or trash. There had been numerous trips to the local recycling centre as he disposed of his old life box by box. Under the cover of darkness, he carried the boxes of belongings to be kept down the narrow, overgrown path from the main road to the hut.

As the days passed, it felt to him that the more of his old life he eliminated, the more his wings flourished.

By the following Thursday, under the watchful eye of the Long Night’s full moon, he left the family home for the final time with a heavy heart but without a backwards glance.

It was almost midnight by the time he had walked from the village to the hut. He had sold his car earlier in the day, handing the keys over with a wrench of pain rattling through his soul. It had seemed the more sensible option to travel along the longer, darker coastal path, feeling secure in the knowledge that most of the journey could pass unnoticed in the shelter of the forest.

Under the cover of the trees, he didn’t need to hide his wings. Despite his initial disgust at their growth, he had to concede that, now fully formed, they were majestic, rivalling the dark angel’s. Much to his amazement, the feathers had grown in varying shades of russet, brown and gold, their tips a bright emerald green. In a twist of fate, their colouring reflected the colours of nature that he loved among the trails that he ran so relentlessly.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the low hut finally came into view. Luck had been on his side and he hadn’t seen another living soul since leaving his former home behind him. As he unlocked the door, he glanced out across the still river, marvelling at the full moon’s perfect reflection on its glassy surface. A familiar warmth welcomed him into his new home.

Using only the light of the moon, he busied himself unpacking the last box of personal effects that he had brought from the family home. The last item to be lifted from the box was a framed photo of his wife and children. It had been taken on their last family holiday. Precious memories of those two weeks in the sun made him smile as he set the frame on the shelf beside the bed.

An unfamiliar noise outside spooked him. Every sense was suddenly on alert. He glanced out of the small side window across the enclosed courtyard adjacent to the hut. Beyond the boundary wall, there was a bench that sat on the grassy verge facing the river.

A hooded figure sat there alone.

With his heart pounding in his chest, he stepped outside to investigate.

If the midnight visitor heard him approach, they gave no outward sign until he was two strides away from the bench then they looked up. Even in the pale moonlight, he could tell the cloaked figure was a beautiful blonde woman. She was staring at him with piercing glacier blue eyes.

“Son of Perran?” she asked, her voice soft but almost void of any discernible accent.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Sit. We need to talk.”

 

(imaged sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

Introducing Shattered Hearts…..it’s launch day

Well, today is the day.

After months of writing, typing, spellchecking, proofreading and editing Book Baby 5 aka Shattered Hearts has finally been published.

If you’d told me a five years ago that I’d be publishing my first never mind my fifth novel I’d have told you that you were mad. This truly is a dream come true.

Writing the story is the easy bit. Pulling it all together is the hard bit and marketing it is the impossible bit! As ever, I couldn’t do this without the help of some wonderful people, my Infamous Five and my Cavalry. (You know who you are.) Thank you will never be enough for you guys.

Right, without further ado and before I get over emotional, allow me to introduce you to my fifth Book Baby, Shattered Hearts.

red broken heart

red broken heart on wooden background – dark and moody

 

Happy reading!

 

Amazon.com link

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

Amazon.co.uk link

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

You can drop into the all day launch event on my FB author page via the link below

https://www.facebook.com/coralmccallumauthor/

 

 

When The Planets Align…..The Nightmare Before Christmas

Sometimes the planets align and you are lucky enough to experience something magical – a once in a lifetime opportunity.

I experienced one such moment earlier this week thanks entirely to a special friend. (You know who you are)

Christmas came early and I was fortunate enough to find myself seated next to my friend in the SSE Hydro preparing to watch the Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas 25th Anniversary concert. Not only that but Danny Elfman, the composer, was about to reprise his role as the singing voice of Jack Skellington alongside other original cast members.

the_nightmare_before_Christmas_lj_031218

Now, I appreciate that not all of you may be Tim Burton or Danny Elfman fans….oh…you don’t know what you’re missing!

Ok, I’ll calm the enthusiasm for a second.

For those of you who haven’t seen it, The Nightmare Before Christmas is an animated dark musical fantasy film conceived and produced by Tim Burton. The film is based on a poem written by Tim Burton when he worked as an animator for Disney

 

It was late one fall in Halloweenland,
And the air had quite a chill.
Against the moon a skeleton sat,
Alone upon a hill.

He was tall and thin with a bat bow tie;
Jack Skellington was his name.
He was tired and bored in Halloweenland –
Everything was always the same.

I’m sick of the scaring, the terror, the fright.
I’m tired of being something that goes bump in the night.
I’m bored with leering my horrible glances,
And my feet hurt from dancing those skeleton dances.
I don’t like graveyards, and I need something new.
There must be more to life than just yelling, ‘Boo!'”

Then out from a grave, with a curl and a twist,
Came a whimpering, whining, spectral mist.

It was a little ghost dog, with a faint little bark,
And a jack-o’-lantern nose that glowed in the dark.

It was Jack’s dog, Zero, the best friend he had,
But Jack hardly noticed, which made Zero sad.

All that night and through the next day,
Jack wandered and walked.
He was filled with dismay.

Then deep in the forest, just before night,
Jack came upon an amazing sight.

Not twenty feet from the spot where he stood
Were three massive doorways carved in wood.

He stood before them, completely in awe,
His gaze transfixed by one special door.

Entranced and excited, with a slight sense of worry,

Jack opened the door to a white, windy flurry.

Jack didn’t know it, but he’d fallen down
In the middle of a place called Christmas Town!

Immersed in the light, Jack was no longer haunted.
He had finally found the feeling he wanted.
And so that his friends wouldn’t think him a liar,
He took the present filled stockings that hung by the fire.
He took candy and toys that were stacked on the shelves,
And a picture of Santa with all of his elves.
He took lights and ornaments and the star from the tree,
And from the Christmas Town sign, he took the big letter C.

He picked up everything that sparkled or glowed.
He even picked up a handful of snow.
He grabbed it all and without being seen,
He took it all back to Halloween.

Back in Halloween, a group of Jack’s peers
Stared in amazement at his Christmas souvenirs.
For this wondrous vision none were prepared.
Most were excited, though a few were quite scared!

For the next few days, while it lightninged and thundered,
Jack sat alone and obsessively wondered.
“Why is it they get to spread laughter and cheer
While we stalk the graveyards, spreading panic and fear?
Well, I could be Santa, and I could spread cheer!
Why does he get to do it year after year?”
Outraged by injustice, Jack thought and he thought.
Then he got an idea. “Yes…yes…why not!”

In Christmas Town, Santa was making some toys
When through the din he heard a soft noise.
He answered the door, and to his surprise,
He saw weird little creatures in strange disguise.
They were altogether ugly and rather petite.
As they opened their sacks, they yelled, “Trick or treat!”
Then a confused Santa was shoved into a sack
And taken to Halloween to see mastermind Jack.

In Halloween everyone gathered once more,
For they’d never seen a Santa before
And as they cautiously gazed at this strange old man,
Jack related to Santa his masterful plan:

My dear Mr. Claus, I think it’s a crime
That you’ve got to be Santa all of the time!
But now I will give presents, and I will spread cheer.
We’re changing places I’m Santa this year.
It is I who will say Merry Christmas to you!
So you may lie in my coffin, creak doors, and yell, ‘Boo!’
And please, Mr. Claus, don’t think ill of my plan.
For I’ll do the best Santa job that I can.”

And though Jack and his friends thought they’d do a good job,
Their idea of Christmas was still quite macabre.

They were packed up and ready on Christmas Eve day
When Jack hitched his reindeer to his sleek coffin sleigh.
But on Christmas Eve, as they were about to begin,
A Halloween fog slowly rolled in.

Jack said, “We can’t leave; this fog’s just too thick.
There will be no Christmas, and I can’t be St. Nick.”
Then a small glowing light pierced through the fog,
What could it be?…It was Zero, Jack’s dog!

Jack said, “Zero, with your nose so bright,
Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

And to be so needed was Zero’s great dream,
So he joyously flew to the head of the team.

And as the skeletal sleigh started its ghostly flight,
Jack cackled, “Merry Christmas to all,
and to all a good night!”

Twas the nightmare before Christmas, and all though the house,
Not a creature was peaceful, not even a mouse.
The stockings all hung by the chimney with care,
When opened that morning would cause quite a scare!
The children, all nestled so snug in their beds,
Would have nightmares of monsters and skeleton heads.
The moon that hung over the new-fallen snow
Cast an eerie pall over the city below,
And Santa Claus’s laughter now sounded like groans,
And the jingling bells like chattering bones.
And what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But a coffin sleigh with skeleton deer.
And a skeletal driver so ugly and sick,
They knew in a moment, this can’t be St. Nick!

From house to house, with a true sense of joy,
Jack happily issued each present and toy.
From rooftop to rooftop he jumped and he skipped,
Leaving presents that seemed to be straight from a crypt!
Unaware that the world was in panic and fear,
Jack merrily spread his own brand of cheer.

He visited the house of
Susie and Dave;
They got a Gumby and Pokey
From the grave.
Then on to the home of
Little Jane Neeman;
She got a baby doll
Possessed by a demon.

A monstrous train with tentacle tracks,
A ghoulish puppet wielding an ax,
A man-eating plant
Disguised as a wreath,
And a vampire teddy bear
With very sharp teeth.

There were screams of terror, but Jack didn’t hear it,
He was much too involved with his own Christmas spirit!
Jack finally looked down from his dark, starry frights
And saw the commotion, the noise, and the light.
“Why, they’re celebrating, it looks like such fun!
They’re thanking me for the good job that I’ve done.”
But what he thought were fireworks meant as goodwill,
Were bullets and missiles intended to kill.
Then amidst the barrage of artillery fire,
Jack urged Zero to go higher and higher.
And away they all flew like the storm of a thistle,
Until they were hit by a well guided missile.
And as they fell on the cemetery, way out of sight,
Was heard, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

Jack pulled himself up on a large stone cross,
And from there he reviewed his incredible loss.
“I thought I could be Santa, I had such belief…”
Jack was confused and filled with great grief.
Not knowing where to turn, he looked toward the sky,
Then he slumped on the grave and he started to cry.
And as Zero and Jack lay crumpled on the ground,
They suddenly heard a familiar sound….

My dear Jack,” said Santa, “I applaud your intent.
I know wreaking such havoc was not what you meant.
And so you are sad, and feeling quite blue,
But taking over Christmas was the wrong thing to do.
I hope you realize Halloween’s the right place for you.
There’s a lot more, Jack, that I’d like to say,
But now I must hurry, for it’s almost Christmas Day.”
Then he jumped in his sleigh, and with a wink of an eye,
He said, “Merry Christmas!”, and he bid them good-bye.

Back home, Jack was sad, but then, like a dream,
Santa brought Christmas to the land of Halloween.

The END

 

(credits to the owner Tim Burton – copy sourced via Google)

 

I love Tim Burton films!

I love Danny Elfman music!

 

This was sure to be a night to remember – and it was!

 

Both my friend and I were a little unsure of what to expect…..

20191202_210020

Below us the stage was prepared for the arrival of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. There were three video screens above the vast stage.

It struck me that I was more accustomed to standing on the rail in front of the stage….not tonight though. This was an entirely seated event. Very civilised.

The show opened with the RSNO playing The Nightmare Before Christmas overture while the screen showed a selection of Tim Burton’s original drawings.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

To cut a long story short, we then watched the film but, when it reached a musical number, this was performed live on stage. Aside from the incredibly talented and animated Danny Elfman, we were entertained by Catherine O’Hara as Sally and Ken Page as Oogie Boogie plus five other vocalists who included comedian Greg Proops (remember him from Whose Line Is it Anyway?)

thCTDE8GBOoharaken page

Like all theatrical performances, there was a short interval at an appropriate moment in the film.

Following the intermission, acclaimed violinist Sandy Cameron was invited on stage to perform the Elfman Violin Concerto. WOW! That’s all I can say…WOW!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35jRufnM-Kg

(credits to the owner via YouTube)

sandy cameron

When the film ended to rapturous applause, the various performers took their bows then Danny Elfman returned to the stage to treat us to one final number. He performed Oogie Boogie’s song as he’d originally envisaged it in a Cab Calloway style. This performance above all others showcases just what an outstandingly talented entertainer he truly is. Loved it!

 

Sadly, all good things have to come to an end….

 

How many sleeps till Sandy Claws comes?

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ry7PcYtKPhA

(credits to the owner via You Tube)

 

(images sourced via Google – credits to the owners)