Beautiful and Haunting – Gypsy!

gypsyWednesday passed by with no sign of my mysterious fantasy man. Every time I heard someone kick-start a motorbike my heart missed a beat. It was never him though never the leather clad, cool smoking man! I bought ‘Rock On’ by David Essex, but I should have saved my money because even when I wasn’t playing it I couldn’t get the song out of my head.

Richmond fair opened on Thursday evening. The rides were much cheaper that night.  Everyone called it test pilot night. You rode cheaply, but at your own risk. I didn’t usually visit the fair on test pilot night. Not because I was afraid of dying while testing out the rides, but because I had to get up for work the following day. A night at the fair almost always involved lots of alcohol, greasy food, and a hangover. When I left work on Thursday, I bypassed Richmond Market Place altogether, not wanting to push my way through throngs of ‘test pilots’. I was almost home when I encountered the old wrinkled gypsy again.

“Hey pretty lady, buy some lucky heather.” She said in a husky voice. Her accent was deep and guttural. A true Romany maybe!

Gypsies, with their superstitions and potions, scared me so I opened my handbag and found my purse, hoping I had some change to give her. I grabbed twenty pence, which would do nicely. A cheap way to prevent being cursed!

“Here you go,” I said looking up. I stopped dead in my tracks. The old hag who sold the heather was gone and a beautiful young woman stood in front of me. Was it a trick of the light? Her black curly hair rested on her bare shoulders. Even though she stood still the bells on the bottom of her skirt jingled in the breeze. She shivered and pulled her shawl tightly around her. Her dark searching eyes focused on me. They were hypnotizing. I held out the change I’d pulled from my purse.

Looking at the hauntingly beautiful face I whispered. “For the lucky heather.”

She frowned and opened her mouth to speak. I felt her breath, it smelled like lilies and then she disappeared right in front of my eyes.

The plot thickens, disappearing man and now a gypsy! Stay tuned, my next post will be on the road from Italy. Maybe the Italian air will inspire me. Thanks for stopping by!

My first novel Dead of July is available on Amazon for 0.99.

Invisible Man?

c6876cc69401343gypsy21f8134cb719e073dIt was pretty hard to keep my mind on work. Lunchtime didn’t come soon enough.

“We’re going to the Red Lion for a Ploughman’s, do you want to come?” Cindy asked.

“No thanks, I think I’ll grab a sandwich and find myself a seat by the river.”

She gave me an odd luck. “You okay?”

“Yes, why?”

“You’ve just been a little distracted the last couple of days. If you need to talk, I’m always here you know that.”

I smiled “I have things on my mind, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“Would it have anything to do with a certain someone in a leather jacked?”Cindy asked.

“Maybe,” I said, giving nothing away. She was satisfied with my answer and left “See you later then.”

I didn’t have a book to read, and I didn’t want to sit by the river. I wanted to find the bad boy in the black leather jacket.

I walked up to the market place, which was a hive of activity now the fair was arriving. Huge lorries looked out of place in the medieval market square. It was a riot of color with the brightly painted gypsy caravans. An old woman tanned dark brown and jingling with beads swept past me. She was a familiar sight at the fair, a fortune teller and possibly a hundred years old, but fit as a fiddle. She hesitated for a moment. I shivered, a sudden chill penetrating my blouse. Nausea swept over me. I hope I’m not getting sick.

The old woman stopped again a few paces in front of me and cackled, “You’re not getting sick, you’re getting a visitor. She’s coming!”

“What?”

She continued her ear piercing cackle and walked away. “You’ll see!”

“Hey wait.” She disappeared behind a huge truck. Did she read my mind? Who was coming? My imagination again? I tried to follow the old gypsy, but she was nowhere to be seen. I’d find her again, when she was open for business, she’d be more than happy to take my money.

Wandering among the throng of lively fair ground folk was uplifting. They shouted and laughed among themselves as they unloaded their equipment. I envied their freedom. The following day the trucks would be gone and the market place transformed into a gaudy playground.

There was no sign of the motorcycle, or its leather clad rider so I bought a sandwich and wandered along castle walk , where I found a bench in the sun and ate my sandwich, wishing I did have a book to read, something to occupy my mind. Maybe I should get away for the weekend. I thought of the old hag that spoke to me in the market place? What did she mean about a visitor? Probably nothing, she was here every year, charged as much as she could to tell your fortune, saying only what you wanted to hear. If she didn’t like the look of you, she’d tell you something horrific, just to scare you.

Then I heard the music again.

And where do we go from here?
Which is a way that’s clear?

A motorbike revved up somewhere below me! I looked down to the road by the river Swale. Nothing! I could hear the noise of an engine as it travelled along the road and cross the bridge, heading up towards Hudswell, but there was nothing to see.

I broke my sandwich into pieces and fed it to the birds. I just wasn’t hungry anymore.

Will I ever find my bad boy? Stay tuned to find out. 

One of my other stories Dead of July can be purchased on Amazon for $0.99.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Hey Shout Summertime Blues, Jump Up and Down in your Blue Suede Shoes – ROCK ON!

FairgroundCindy arrived mid-morning. “Still no Jan?” she asked.

“No, no phone calls either, maybe she’ll be in later.”

Cindy settled herself behind her desk. “You look tired, are you alright? You aren’t getting sick too are you?”

Shall I tell her about my dream? Will she think I’m losing my mind? I looked up, but she was already focusing on a computer print out, pencil in hand. The moment of confession passed by.

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well.”

“You ‘d better get as much sleep as you can tonight, the fair will be here by tomorrow. I don’t know which is worse, the noise they make setting everything up, or the blaring musing and screaming kids on the rides. I don’t know why they put it in the market place; it should be in a field out-of-town. It must damage the cobblestones.”

I smiled, “its tradition Cindy, the fair has been here over Whit Weekend for over a hundred years hasn’t it?”

“They didn’t have waltzers and dodgems over a hundred years ago though.”

Oh dear, she’s getting old! I hope I never get tired of things like the fair!

I put my head down and got on with my work. I don’t remember singing to myself; I don’t remember it at all. 

Hey kid rock and roll
Rock on, ooh my soul
Hey kid. boogey too, did ya
 

Hey shout, summertime blues
Jump up and down in my blue suede shoes
Hey kid you rock and roll, rock on
 

And where do we go from here?
Which is a way that’s clear?

Still looking for that blue jean, baby queen
Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen
See her shake on the movie screen, Jimmy Dean (James Dean)

“What is that song? I’ve heard it before. I really like it!”

I looked up to see Cindy staring at me. “What song?”

“The one you were just singing.”

Like a mist in my head, the tune hung there. I could hear it, but I didn’t know what it was. “I don’t know, I didn’t even realize I was singing.”

Then we both heard the song loud and clear. It came from outside.

And where do we go from here?
Which is a way that’s clear?

Still looking for that blue jean, baby queen
Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen
See her shake on the movie screen, Jimmy Dean
Jimmy Dean
Rock on

Rock on
Rock on
Rock on
Rock on…

I walked over to the window and looked out. The first of the huge lorries that would park in the market place and set up the equipment for the fair drove past. The music came from his open window. It was loud!

“Oh no, its starting! Peace and quiet shattered now.” Cindy said shaking her head.

I didn’t respond, I was too busy looking at the figure in black riding his motorbike behind the lorry. Was he looking back at me?

Hey kid rock and roll
Rock on, rock on
Hey shout, summertime blues
Rock on, rock on
Hey kid boogey too
Rock on, rock on
Hey kid rock and roll
Rock on, rock on

I was a child of the fifties and music ruled my life. Every memory comes with a tune. This is for those of you who remember David Essex when he was a young man. He melted my heart. This song still gives me the chills. 

The eighties were pretty good too! Dead of July is set in the eighties. 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Buy it on Amazon for $0.99.

I Heard it through the GRAPEVINE of my fantasies! Where are you bad boy?

BadboyIt took a lot of make-up to fix my face for work that day. Dark circles hung under my puffy eyes. That was one hell of a nightmare, but it wasn’t really a nightmare, nothing bad happened. It was a vivid dream. The bad boy from the car park and the pub triggered my imagination. I was fantasizing about him. Wait a minute; there was no bad boy! 

I bet you’re wonderin’ how I knew
‘Bout your plans to make me blue
With some other guy you knew before
Between the two of us guys
You know I loved you more
It took me by surprise I must say
When I found out yesterday
Don’t you know that I heard it through the grapevine
Not much longer would you be mine
Oh I heard it through the grapevine
Oh I’m just about to lose my mind

I started singing along to Marvin Gay and turned the radio up, maybe it would erase the images of my fantasy man. I liked the images that played in my head, but they were way too strong. I needed a dose of reality!

The DJ on the radio station chirped in, “yes, it’s that time of year again folks, the fair is on its way to Richmond. Candy floss, burgers, and the brutality of the waltzers to eject those divine, but bad treats from your stomach. Good times!”

I smiled; I loved the fair when it came to Richmond. The older locals hated the noise it brought, along with diesel fumes and food, but it brought money to the town so they tolerated it. Feeling a little better I grabbed my bag and set off to work. It was a good morning to walk. No frost this morning, just a slight mist hanging over the town. Once that burned off it would be a beautiful day.

Misty Richmond

I had the office to myself. Cindy had an early appointment and there was still no sign of Jan. I made myself a second cup of coffee, and while the computer booted up, gazed out of the window and down to the car park. That’s where it all began, that’s where I first saw you smoking man. Are you real?

Cigarette smoke tantalized my nostrils. I turned around quickly, almost spilling my coffee.

No one was in the room but me.

Somewhere a motorbike fired up!

I love Saturday mornings, its my time. I enjoy a second cappuccino as I blog. Loving my bad boy story. It brings back memories of my teenage years in Brompton on Swale and Richmond, North Yorkshire. Of course this is all fiction…or is it?

Give my first novel Dead of July a try. Available on Amazon for a mere $0.99. If you love it, let me know. If you don’t love it, let me know why.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Daemon in the Dark

BadboyMy bedroom was cold, so cold I could see my breath. Pulling the covers tightly around me, I snuggled back onto my pillow. The street light cast an orange glow through my curtains, and then it went out. It must be 3am! Darkness filled my room.

The silence was broken only by my heartbeat. It was beating fast, anticipating something I knew nothing about. The room was still!

I heard the sound of a motorbike.

Who would be out riding at this time?

It got closer. I heard it speeding along the narrow streets until it finally entered the market square. The noise bounced off stone buildings. It was loud and exciting. It thrilled and hypnotized me. I wanted to ride. Was I still dreaming?

I leapt out of bed, no longer conscious of the cold it. Throwing on some clothes and grabbing a pair of shoes, I ran barefoot down the stairs, slamming the door behind me. I stood still long enough to slip my bare feet into my shoes, and then ran towards the sound of the idling engine……Hello Baby! Where was the music coming from?

Beneath the one remaining street light was growling speed machine. When I approached the rider looked up at me. The music got louder…

Chantilly lace and a pretty face
And a pony tail hanging down
That wiggle in the walk and giggle in the talk
Makes the world go round
There ain’t nothing in the world like a big eyed girl
That makes me act so funny, make me spend my money
Make me feel real loose like a long-necked goose
Like a girl, oh baby that’s what I like

He rode towards me, slowly. I held my breath. It was him! The man from the car park, the face in the mirror at the bar, the bad boy I’d danced with in my dreams. He was real and he’d come for me.

The bike sped past me, then slowed down and turned around. He was playing games I liked it. I turned around to face him and he smiled at me. A smile that melted my heart! He revved the engine and came towards me again. I didn’t step aside. I wasn’t scared! He blew right past me.

“Come back, I’m sorry don’t leave me.”

Who said that? I looked around confused. I hadn’t spoken.

The sound of my alarm clock screamed in my ear. It was 7am and time to get up. Why did I feel so tired? I swung my legs off the bed and looked down at my feet. I’d gone to bed with my shoes on? Clothes lay around the room as though I’d undressed in a hurry, and left my shoes on?

Oh Baby that’s what I like?

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Hope you’re enjoying my bad boy story. It was inspired by David Essex from back in the day. I thought about him and then thought about this story. Rock On! Remember that song?

Dead of July, my first novel, is available on Amazon for $0.99, give it a try.

Unforgettable Figment of my Imagination – Oh Baby thats what I Want

The room was warm and filled with blue cigarette smoke. Speakers screeched with feedback. One two, one two, and then the music began. It was music I’d heard before, long ago. I’d heard it on movies. The dance floor was alive with laughter. Ladies in tight pants with tiny waists danced to the sound of the Big Bopper. Where had I heard that name before?

“Oh baby that’s what I want”

It was dark, hard to see. Where was I? It was a different time, a different place, and a different world!

“Hey, you wanna jive with me?”

“What?”

“You wanna jive with me?”

A young man in tight jeans and a shirt with a thin black leather tie hanging down the front stood in front of me. His hair was slicked back, a curl falling over his forehead. Placed there carefully to look random. Is this what my mam had called a teddy boy? I thought teddy boys had gone out of fashion years ago.

“No, I don’t jive!”

He looked disappointed and walked away. He had more luck with the girl sitting across the room. I watched fascinated as he swung her in circles.

Where was I?

The jiving finished and the music slowed down. I knew the next song very well. Nat King Cole. Unforgettable! It was my mam’s favorite!

That’s when I saw him walking towards me, his head tilted to one side, his eyes shining with mischief. He stopped halfway across the dance floor and lit a cigarette, holding it as though it were a fashion accessory. It suited him! He must be hot in his leather jacket, but it made him look icy cool. I shivered as he approached. He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. Unforgettable, that’s what you are.

He stopped and swung me around to face him.

Where am I? Where did you come from?

My heart stopped!

I gasped for breath!

The smoke was gone, but I still tasted it. The music was a shadow in my mind, haunting the corners of my memory.

I’d dreamt it all? The dark stranger in the park, and then in the pub, had triggered my imagination. I could still feel his touch, smell his leather jacket. Who was he?

Is he real or am I imagining him?

Dead of July my first novel is available on Amazon from $0.99, yes that’s less than a pound or a euro if you live in Europe. I’m cheap! I want everyone to read my first attempt at being a writer. I’ve been writing since I was 12 years old. Some of my old stories will resurface soon, but for now, there’s Dead of July! A young army wife in trouble…not far from the truth, I always was! Enjoy!

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

Jimmy Dean – James Dean – Rock On!

James-Dean-Smile-150x150I couldn’t take my eyes off his reflection in the mirror. He was a handsome vision of good and bad all rolled into one gorgeous package, and he was looking at me. ME!

“Something wrong love?” It was the barman who spoke.

“What, no, I’m okay,” I said without taking my eyes of the face in the mirror. The crooked grin widened. I smiled back. I was under his spell. Who was he? Without knowing what I would say I took a deep breath and turned around. He was gone. Was he playing a game with me? The pub door swung shut and I ran towards it. I had to know who he was. I had to speak to him. The street was empty. Where did he go? A cruel game! Where are you, who are you?

I walked back inside, hurt and confused.

“Where’d you go?” Cindy asked, “Your foods getting cold. Are you all right? You look like you found a pound and lost a fiver.”

“I’m fine. I did lose something though. Did you see a guy sitting at the bar?”

“I saw a couple of guys sitting at the bar, anyone in particular.”

“Black hair, white tee-shirt, handsome?”

Cindy looked at me quizzically, “Not the same guy you claim to have seen in the car park this morning?”

I hung my head. “Yes, the same one.”

George began to laugh. “Are you conjuring up yourself an imaginary boyfriend?”

“Believe me, if I could conjure up someone who looked like him, I’d be happy for the rest of my life.”

The laugher lightened my mood. We ordered another round of drinks and enjoyed our food, but I kept my eye on the door, hoping he’d come back.

“Come on, we need to get out of here, I’d love another drink, but we’ve got another tough day at work tomorrow. I hope Jan comes in and does her share. Do you want us to walk you home?”

“No, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll run in to a handsome stranger.” I said hopefully.

There was no handsome stranger on my way home. I went to bed disappointed. Was I falling in love with a figment of my own imagination? I’d not dated anyone for quite some time, but wasn’t worried about it. My life was full of friends, travel, parties and work. I didn’t need a man in my life, well not until now. The song I’d heard in the bar was still ringing in my head, it lulled me to sleep. I dreamed of James Dean!

Hey did you rock and roll, rock on, oh my soul.

Hey did you boogie too, did you?

My first novel Dead of July is available on Amazon. A bargain at $0.99, yes thats less than a British pound.

Dead of July by Sandra ThompsonI’d love to hear from  you after you’ve it. A review on Amazon would be even better.

Stay tuned for the next installment of my blog story.  

Hey Did You Rock and Roll? Rock On!

The smoke ring faded and disappeared. Had it really been there?

“Come on let’s get on with those reports, it’s going to be a long day,” Cindy said, “I’m not best pleased with Jan taking the day off. Can you work late if I need you to?”

“Sure, I could do with the extra money.”

“I bet you could, you’re off to Rimini again this year aren’t you?”

I breathed deeply and smiled, “Yes, sunshine and sand for two weeks. I can’t wait.”

“You’re obsessed with Italy!” Cindy said shaking her head.

“Yup, I think I must have been Italian in a previous life.”

I sat at my desk and began thumbing through computer printouts, the smoking man was soon forgotten.The day passed slowly, but by six thirty we were done.

“Do you want to join George and I in the Black Lion? Can’t be bothered to cook tonight so we’re going to grab a bite there?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, I wouldn’t have asked if I did. It’s my treat too, you worked hard today, you earned it.”

The Black Lion was only a five-minute walk across the cobbled streets.

George was waiting for us at a table by the fire. It was cozy. He ordered gin and tonics for Cindy and I, and another half of bitter for himself.

“Not a bad way to end a Monday is it?” he said.

“No, it’s not. Wish it was Friday though. I’m going to put some music on the jukebox. Be back in a minute.”

I fed some money into the machine and thumbed through the tunes, picking out my favorites, David Bowie, The Kinks, Elton John, what else? That’s when the jukebox came to life and selected the fourth song for me. I was about to complain to the barman, but something caught my eye. I saw a face reflected in the mirror behind the bar. A handsome face, and it was smiling at me. Tantalizing eyes were framed by jet black wavy hair, a strand of which fell across his forehead. He wore a white tee-shirt and a crooked grin. I saw you this morning in the park. I could barely breathe, so powerful was his presence. That’s when the music started, a song I’d never heard before, a song I never wanted to stop.

Love bringing music into my stories, it sets the atmosphere. I think I’m going to fall in love with this guy, but who is he and where did he come from?

Check out my first novel Dead of July which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

The Smoking Man

I saw him first on a Monday morning. Why I paid attention to him I don’t know, well maybe I do. A striking figure, he sat on a bench the rose garden  smoking a cigarette. He wore a black leather jacket, open at the front. It was a cold morning in North Yorkshire. Spring hadn’t quite turned into summer and a slight frost glistened on the grass. It was much too cold to sit outside and smoke.

I hurried into the office, my breath making clouds in the cold air.

“Morning sunshine, I just put a cup of coffee on your desk” my bosses husband greeted me as he left to make his rent collecting rounds for the day.

“Morning, thanks, mind how you go,” I answered as the door shut behind him.

My boss, Cindy, met me in the door way of our office. “I’m going up to finance, I’ll be back in half an hour or so, Jan isn’t coming in. Tummy bug, or too much brandy over the weekend, see you in a bit.”

I grabbed my coffee and walked over to the window, enjoying the view of the hills and greenery that surrounded the sleepy little market town. I looked down to the park, a place I often sat in the summer, enjoying a sandwich from the local bakery. A thin wisp of smoke floated in the air. I’d forgotten about the smoking man.

The door opened behind me and Cindy appeared. “Hi, seems everyone’s late this morning, I’ll grab another coffee and try again in half an hour. What are you looking at?”

I turned back to the window “There’s a bloke sitting out there chain-smoking. He must be freezing.”

Cindy followed my gaze. “I don’t see anyone.”

I looked again. “He was there a minute ago.” I put my cup down and walked closer to the window, my breath clouding the glass. Sure enough the smoking man was gone, but not completely. A perfect smoke ring hovered above the bench, the only evidence he’d ever been there.

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Yes, another story has escaped my tormented brain, where’s this one going? if you know the answer you’re better than me. My stories enter my head in installments…..you could say I have episodes! Keep following, it may be a fun ride. Check out my first novel on Amazon. Bargain at $0.99. When I’m famous I’ll charge much more. Stephen King started cheap too. I write for fun, any profit I make is a bonus. 

Dead of July

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson