Rather brilliantly, Britain’s science bods will be adding a ‘leap second’ to the world’s clocks at the stroke of midnight tonight.  This extra second will help keep our time-pieces in sync with the erratic rotation of the Earth.  You can read the story here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/7805534.stm

I’m not quite sure what I’ll be doing with my extra second, but I know I’ll be nice and warm at home when Big Ben finally strikes midnight.  Having kids means the days of partying until the early hours to welcome in the New Year are long gone (and it’s flippin’ freezing outside, too!)

However, as the rare 61 second minute ticks away, I’ll be raising a glass to thank everyone who’s visited this website or read my books in 2008.  There’s plenty more to come in 2009!

Tommy

We took my younger son, Sam, to a butterfly reserve near Rotheram today where I got to test out my new camera…

Not bad, eh?

The highlight for Sam wasn’t, as I expected, seeing all the other animals they had on site such as owls, skunks, parrots, rabbits, an alpaca and various birds of prey.  Instead it was a board where you had to press buttons to give the answer to a question – the fun being that, if you pressed the wrong button, you were sprayed with a jet of water.  Sam thought this was hilarious and kept pressing the wrong button again and again just so he could get soaked!

We dried him off in the cafe where I was delighted to have someone come over and ask, “Excuse me, are you the person that writes the Scream Street books?”  It turns out her daughters had seen me at the Bag-A-Book event in Sheffield, back in October.  I grinned all the way home!

Tommy

Merry Christmas to everyone who visited my website this year!  I hope you have a scream!

Me?  I’m counting down the hours to Doctor Who…!

Tommy & family

Many a year ago, when I was 10 or 11 years old, I found a book in my local library which I loved (although, looking back, I loved reading pretty much anything – even losing myself in the list of ingredients of the cereal packet at breakfast time).  This book, however, was something special.  I read it again and again, devouring the sequels I found on the shelf beside it.  It was a wonderful time.

Eventually, however, I moved on to read other things and forgot all about this incredible series.  Over time, I forgot the names of the books and that of their author.  I couldn’t recall the characters, or even much about the plots.  All I remembered is that the adventures were set on Mars, and the feeling of utter joy I experienced while reading them.

Thirty years later, I still think about that first Mars book and its sequels, hoping against hope that I can find and re-read them one day.  I’ve scoured libraries and bookshops, hoping to spot a familiar cover or read a character name that would bring everything flooding back.  No joy.

This morning, I stumbled across an article on the Internet about a series of books written by Tarzan author, Edgar Rice Burroughs.  The first book, A Princess Of Mars (originally titled Under The Moons Of Mars), was Burroughs’ first novel, penned in 1911 under the brilliant, if unusual pseudonym of Normal Bean.  As I read more about the book and its sequels, a familiar feeling began to rumble at the back of my mind…

I think this could be the series I’ve been trying to find for three decades.  I’ve ordered a second-hand copy of the first book from a seller on Amazon (about the only way to get it) and I wait with baited breath to start reading and see if I’m right.  Oh, I hope I’m right.

I shall update you in due course…

Tommy

It’s time for the Christmas Screamcast!

In the December edition of The Screamcast, Tommy Donbavand tells you how he can visit your school, offers the chance to win signed books, and reads an exclusive Scream Street short story – The Anti-Claus!

Get your copy here: www.screamstreet.co.uk/screamcast/

I had an amazing day at North Ormesby Primary School today where I was invited along to hand out the end of term prizes – including the ‘Tommy Donbavand Writing Hero Award’ (I still smile every time I type that!)

I can honestly say that I’ve never been to a school with a more upbeat, positive attitude.  Everything the staff do is geared towards promoting a love of reading and writing (which the school, rather brilliantly, sees as the key to everything else the pupils will have to face, not only in education, but for the rest of their lives).  I almost cheered when, after displaying a selection of books that had been donated to the school library, the ENTIRE first row of the assembly sat down and immediately started reading.  Not one of these pupils had any idea what the book they’d been handed was about – they were simply keen to jump in and learn something new.  I can’t think of a better example to show that the teachers’ efforts are paying off, and will continue to do so.

It hasn’t been an easy ride, however, as I discovered when I learned of the challenges the school has had to face, and continues to do so.  In many cases, it would be enough to convince the staff to switch off and go through the motions – but not at North Ormesby.  There they roll up their sleeves and face the problems head on – with a great big book in each hand!

The highlight of my day was meeting the Writing Hero: a wonderfully enthusiastic lad called Kian.  As part of his prize, I’m going to write him into the seventh Scream Street book as a character (he wants to be a vampire!) and I’ve already got some great ideas as to how that might work.  I’m looking forward to next Halloween when Kian and I can hold a joint book signing session at the school!  Kian was also kind enough to record a quick interview which I’ll be including in the Christmas edition of the Scream Street podcast – the Screamcast.

As if all this wasn’t enough, I’ve been asked by Reading Is Fundamental (part of the National Literacy Trust) to become RIF Ambassador to the school – the first pairing of its kind.  Through this position, I get to add my efforts to the promotion of reading and writing at North Ormesby – a task I am humbled and honoured to undertake.  I’ll be visiting the school on a regular basis to run creative writing workshops, help with reading sessions, recommend great new books and much more.  I can’t wait to get started.

A fantastic day was had by all; a day during which a single thought kept running round and round my head…  I wish I’d gone to North Ormesby Primary School.

Tommy

By way of a Christmas treat for all Scream Street readers, I’ve written an exclusive short story – The Anti-Claus.  Hope you enjoy it!

Have a screaming Christmas…

Tommy

—

The Anti-Claus

by Tommy Donbavand

—

Luke Watson stood in Scream Street’s square and gazed up at the giant Christmas tree in its centre.  Lengths of steaming intestine were strung across the branches like tinsel, and glitter-coated hearts, livers and kidneys hung as baubles.

“You know,” said Resus Negative, the young vampire standing next to him, “maybe we shouldn’t have let the zombies decorate the tree this year…”

“It still needs something at the top,” Luke grinned, gazing up at the highest branches.  “Where’s the fairy?”

Resus gestured to a huge figure in a pink tutu throwing darts on the other side of the square.  “He’s over there, trying to win a goldfish.”

Just about every resident of Scream Street was out, enjoying the Christmas Fair: witches brewed up cauldrons of warm drinks, skeletons played seasonal music on their rib bones, and the “I’ll Guess Your Blood Type” stall run by Resus’s dad was doing a roaring trade.

“There you are!” called a voice.  A small figure wrapped from head to toe in bandages was picking her way through the crowds towards Luke and Resus.  “I thought you said you’d wait for me by the food table!”

“We did,” said Resus, “but the goblins are manning it this year and the aroma of cooked chicken doesn’t mix well with that of face-melting farts!”

Cleo nudged Resus in the side.  “Go on, then!” she hissed.

“Oh, yeah!  Right…” the vampire said, remembering.  Plunging his hand deep into the folds of his cape, he produced a carefully wrapped present.  “We got you this,” he said, handing the gift to Luke.

“You shouldn’t have,” beamed Luke as he tore away the bat-covered wrapping paper to reveal a dog’s lead and choke-chain made from thick metal.  He looked confused.  “No, really – you shouldn’t have…”

“It’s for when you’re in your werewolf form,” said Cleo.

Resus winked.  “Can’t have the big doggy getting lost, can we?”

“Thanks!” said Luke, enjoying the joke.  “I didn’t know if I’d get any presents this year.  I doubt even Santa knows how to get to Scream Street.”

Cleo frowned beneath her bandages.  “Who?” she asked.

“Santa,” repeated Luke.  “You know – big and jolly, bright red suit, gives toys and presents to children all over the world.”

“He sounds nice,” sighed Cleo.  “I wish we had him instead.”

“Instead of what?”

“Let’s just say the sound of sleigh-bells is one of the most terrifying noises there is around here,” explained Resus.

Luke cocked an ear skywards.  “But, I can hear sleigh-bells now…”

With a whoosh, a shadow swooped over the square and a harsh voice roared out: “Who’s been good this year?”  The effect was instant.  The residents screamed and ran for cover, knocking over wine-filled cauldrons and upsetting tables of food.

Resus grabbed Luke and dragged him behind a nearby garden hedge.

“He’s here!” bellowed Cleo, racing to join them.  “It’s him!”

“Who?” yelled Luke as the shadow swept across the square again.

Resus pointed up to a shape blocking out the stars.  Luke squinted and saw what appeared to be a sleigh made from bits of broken wood, pulled by six skeletal reindeer, each with fire flashing around its antlers.  Driving the sleigh was a fat ogre, dressed in a filthy green suit.  The creature’s piercing red eyes scanned the terrified crowd below with glee.

“He comes here once a year to steal presents from children who’ve been good,” explained Resus.  “He’s the Anti-Claus!”

“The Anti-Claus?” exclaimed Luke, jumping to his feet just as the sleigh passed overhead once more.  It skimmed across the square as the ogre chased a pair of young banshees, each clutching a doll.  The Anti-Claus pulled his sleigh alongside the screaming children and grabbed their toys, tossing them into a bulging, black sack behind him.  “Goodwill to ME!” he roared, pulling on the reins to order the reindeer to climb once more.

Luke stood and snatched up the metal lead and collar Resus and Cleo had given him, swinging it round his head like a lasso.

“What are you doing?” demanded the vampire.

Luke focused on the nightmarish sleigh above.  “I’m getting my name on the ‘naughty’ list!” he growled.

As the Anti-Claus banked and swung back over the square, Luke flung the metal lead above him, hooking it over one the sleigh’s metal runners.  As the reindeer thundered by, the choke-chain collar tightened and Luke leant back to take the strain.

“Help me!” he grunted as the lead pulled taut and he was dragged across the garden.  Resus and Cleo dived for Luke’s feet, but the sleigh was travelling too fast and they missed by centimetres.

Luke, still gripping the end of the lead, was lifted into the air and carried high over Scream Street.  Feeling the added weight, the Anti-Claus leaned over the side of the sleigh and gurgled with delight.  “Looks like I’ve got me a hitch-hiker!”

Jerking on the reins, the ogre turned the sleigh and flew straight for the huge Christmas tree.  Luke kicked his legs in the air to try and swing himself away from the branches, but couldn’t changed direction in time.  He crashed into the tree, pine needles puncturing his skin and various decorative organs slapping across his face.

Branch after branch hit Luke in the stomach, arms and legs until he slammed into the trunk, winded.  He wrapped his arms tightly around the rough bark and tried to catch his breath, the metal lead snagging on a creaking bough and temporarily halting the progress of the sleigh.

Racing across the square, Cleo stared up at the tree as it shook from the force of the impact.  “I can’t see Luke!” she shouted.

“There!” yelled Resus.  “He’s caught up in the branches near the top – and the good news is, he’s getting angry!”

“How can that be good news?” asked Cleo.

“Because he’s about to unleash his furry friend!”

Luke spat out a spleen covered with glitter as his mind flooded with rage.  Allowing the feeling to wash over him, he felt his bones begin to splinter and reshape.  His muscles tore and knotted back together instantly and long, yellowing talons burst from his fingers and toes.  Within seconds, he was a fully-formed werewolf.

Luke yanked hard on the dog’s lead, pulling the sleigh back as the reindeer struggled to drag it in the opposite direction.  The wolf’s powerful legs wrapped around one of the uppermost branches and clung on tightly, muscles rippling beneath the course fur.

The Anti-Claus turned and scowled at the werewolf holding him back.  “You’ll never win!” slavered the ogre.  “I’m in charge at this time of year!  I know when you are sleeping.  I know when you’re awake!  No-one can stop me from coming to town!”

With a howl, the werewolf pulled back hard on the lead.  Suddenly the leather reins snapped and the six skeletal reindeer shot skyward, their hooves pounding against the air itself.  The sleigh spun and catapulted back towards the tree, smashing into the branches and disintegrating.

Luke caught the black sack as it flew past and used his werewolf teeth to tear at the coarse material.  Hundreds of stolen toys spilled from the bag and rained down to the square below.

Resus and Cleo were waiting at the bottom of the tree as Luke clambered back down.  The transformation was reversing, and he was quickly returning to his human form.

“That,” said Resus as Luke reached the ground, “was incredible!”

“It was nothing,” said Luke.  “It just needed someone to take the lead!”

All around them, Scream Street’s residents were emerging from their homes and hiding places, righting tables and chairs while children happily collected up toys that had been stolen from them year after year.

“Hang on,” said Cleo.  “Where’s the Anti-Claus?”

“Up there,” said Luke.

The trio looked up to see the Anti-Claus, knocked unconscious by the impact, tangled at the very top of the tree.  Several zombies were already clambering up the branches with tubs of glitter, a gag and lengths of rope to secure the ogre in place.

“You said needed it something up there!” beamed Resus.

“He won’t be happy when he wakes up,” said Cleo.

“Maybe not,” grinned Luke, “but until then, we’ll have a silent night!”

THE END

My apologies for lack of new posts this last week – this is due to me spending the last seven days flat on my back, whimpering in agony.

Yes, the fall I enjoyed last week has just kept on giving, albeit only in the area of searing back pain.  However,I’m back on my feet again now (and, much to my editor’s relief, back at my desk) so normal service should now resume.

Tommy

That’s right: I HATE STEPS – and I don’t mean the manufactured boy/girl/whatever-H-was pop band of five or six years ago.  No, I hate the concrete going up and down from one level to another kind.

Last night started well enough.  I popped round to a friend’s house and spent a very pleasant hour or so chatting – but then it was time to go home.  I stepped out into the dark, icy wasteland that was my friend’s front garden and gingerly made my way along the frosty path.  All was well until I reached a step down to the gate, and then my feet slid from beneath me.

For a split-second, I could fly.  I lay, horizontal, in the air, gazing up in wonder at the blanket of stars above.  Then, gravity – the swine – kicked in.  I landed hard on the garden path, the small of my back hitting the edge of the step full on.  A bolt of pain shot up and down my back like lightning made of angry hedgehogs and every molecule of breath was squeezed from my lungs.

I remained still for a minute or two, partly so I could gather the courage to try and stand, but also while I pondered just how much surgery would be required to piece my shattered spine back together.  They’d surely have to use so many pins that I wouldn’t be able to walk past the freezer without being fastened to the door like some life-sized fridge magnet.

I eventually scrambled back to my feet and inched my way to the car and home, where I spent the entire night in restless agony.  Bizarrely – there isn’t a single bruise to show as evidence for when I take the weather to court and sue the pants off it.  If weather wears pants, that is.  And they’ll probably be made of clouds anyway and absolutely worthless as compensation.

Maybe I should sue H from Steps instead…

Tommy

The first review for a Scream Street book other than SS1: Fang of the Vampire has appeared on amazon.co.uk.  It’s for SS4: Flesh of the Zombie, and here’s what the reviewer had to say…

***** Another brilliant book!

The Scream Street series has really captured my 10 year old sons imagination. He literally devoured all of the books in this series within days and his face lit up when he talked about the story and the characters.

As a parent, I cant wish for anything better!

You can read the review in situ here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Scream-Street-Flesh-Zombie/dp/1406314277/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228122605&sr=8-3

How chuffed am I?  That’s exactly the sort of reader I set out to reach.  In response – I promise I’ll write as many Scream Street books as my publishers will let me!

Tommy