I don’t what it is about Christmas, but I seem to veer towards writing ghost stories at this time of year. Perhaps it’s the long dark nights, the remembrance of those that are no longer with us to celebrate, or could it be ‘The Dickens Effect’ of old tales of personal reflection. Whether it’s all of the above or none of them at all, my latest story grew out of a childhood experience. When I confided in my mum that I could always feel something cold waft past me as I walked across the bedroom landing, she admitted that she too had felt the same and that it was probably my dead grandad! She then gave me some advice that has always stayed with me: I was not to be afraid, but to say hello whenever I felt his presence. As barking as this sounds, it worked for me, and I never ran across the landing in fear ever again. Now when folk ask me if I believe in ghosts, I just reply that I don’t, but they seem to like me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short piece of flash fiction, The Insomnia