Richard Kellum is a novelist living in London. He writes about the shadows of the here and now because sometimes the creatures who inhabit those realms stick their tongues out at us, and they, being egotistical and (if we’re being honest) rather needy, demand that someone glorify such actions by reporting them in fictive prose to the general human population. Otherwise, said creatures have promised Richard that they intend to reach deeper into our dimension and touch us with hands that feel thinly coated with chilly mud. They’ve speculated on the joys of hiding in our trees and mesmerizing us with song. Richard sincerely hopes they won’t go so far as cracking open our skulls and licking our brains. But they’ve joked about it and, with these guys, you never can tell.