Love you to DEATH!

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Jean’s spirit hovered behind her cheating husband she was mad as hell! His naked mistress sat up and raised her glass. Bill undid his belt and stepped out of his trousers, he shed the rest of his clothes as he approached the bed. Spirits shouldn’t feel pain, it should be wiped away with death. Why does this hurt so much!
“Turn it into anger, use it now!”
Jean didn’t know where the voice came from, or if it was just a thought floating through her head, but she acted on it.
Bill and Sofia fueled her anger. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, writhing in passion. Sofia purred and whispered in his ear in Russian, a language he didn’t understand, but it turned him on.
“I’m going to Love you to Death!” he said, his voice of lust. There was no love in his greedy mind. He didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Love you to death, love you to death, love you to DEATH!
Jean’s face fixed in a bitter smile as she looked at the candles that lit the room. Focusing on those at the foot of the bed, she toppled them. One or two were extinguished as the fell, but the rest stayed alight. They found fuel on the carpet and flames burned hungrily. Soon the carpet was ablaze.
The flames were low and spread unnoticed! Jean smiled as Bill’s discarded clothes caught fire.

“You don’t need to watch this.”

Finding herself on a grassy bank in the park across from the hotel, Jean watched the fire engines arrive, along with a couple of ambulance and police cars. The fire was soon extinguished. Hotel guests were brought outside, some coughing smoke and soot from their lungs. She hoped no one but Bill was hurt. A satisfied smile crossed her face when she saw the gurney wheeled out, the shape that it carried was completely covered. He was dead!

But he wasn’t, she still felt him, why did she feel his life?

Bill followed the gurney, supported by two firefighters. He sat on the steps and coughed.

Quick as a flash, Jean was in front of him. His face was sooty, but he was unharmed. Sitting on the steps, a hotel robe covering his naked lustful body, he was alive. Her anger turned white-hot. He looked in her direction and smiled.

Can he see me?

Sofia, his rich mistress was dead. Her jewelry and spare cash were stuffed in his robe, along with her credit cards and the keys to her Alfa Romeo! He smiled.

“Time to move on!”

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Red Hot!

 

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As they approached the hotel Jean’s anger flared. Her aura was red-hot. She felt it and worried that Bill would see her. He glanced in his rear-view mirror, a confused look on his face, as if something were wrong. Tugging at his tie, he loosened it and undid the top button of his shirt.
Perspiration prickled his face.
Jean smiled. He couldn’t see her, but she knew he felt her. The sweet little Catholic girl was going to release a world of pain on this man.
Bill wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket and switched on the AC.
With one glance Jean switched it off again.
Bill punched the button again, she left it on for thirty seconds, and then smiled and switched it off.
“Goddamn fucking AC, maybe I should have gotten the BMW after all”
Jean smiled and switched on the heating. Her aura calmed, she was no longer red-hot, but Bill was!
Driving erratically, he ran a red light, almost hitting two pedestrians.
“Shit, shit, SHIT!”
He slowed down a little.
“The last thing I need right now is another death!”
Then he smiled and relaxed a little. Jean hadn’t been rich, but they had a house together with at least $200,000 in equity. Jean’s parents had given them a chunk of money as a wedding present. Then there was the jewelry! He’d make a tidy sum when he sold that. He opened the car windows and breathed deeply. In the back of the car, Jean’s aura was red again. She could hear his thoughts. Closing her eyes she resisted the urge to kill him. She moved effortlessly into the passenger seat and remembered how she’d loved sitting next to him in the car. He’d slip his hand onto her knee and stroke her inner thigh while the drove. She shivered as she remembered…but the moment soon passed!
How long did it take for you to tire of me Bill? Did you ever really love me?
Bill pulled into the hotel parking lot. His head was full of his mistress, and her money. Parking the car, he walked quickly into the hotel lobby and climbed the stairs two at a time. Anticipating the rest of the afternoon, Bill was already aroused. Money and sex did that to him. He opened the door. The drapes were closed and scented candles burned. The room smelled of roses, and expensive perfume. Bill was right about the champagne, but wrong about her skimpy expensive attire.

Sofia was naked!

Revenge!

 

 

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Bill hugged Jean’s family as though he meant it, putting on a good show for the mourners. He hadn’t wanted Jean dead, but he hadn’t wanted Jean anymore, the novelty had worn off, he was moving on. Death, although not planned, did make their marriage final. Tied up loose ends. Lissa, his new girlfriend, was rich and beautiful. Ten years older than him, but that was a good thing. It made her more desperate, willing to give him things. He could make this one last a while. Long enough to take her money anyway!
“Will you come back to the house with us Bill? It’s only going to be a small gathering. Close family?” Jean’s mum asked.
“No! I just want to be alone with my memories.”
Bill wiped his eyes, there were no tears there, but he looked convincing. Lori studied his handsome face. She didn’t see evidence of sleepless nights or tears. His eyes weren’t bloodshot from crying. In fact he didn’t look sad at all. She was suspicious.
“Our family will expect to see you there” she said, “They’ll worry about you if you don’t show up.”
Lori’s dad spoke up. “Leave him Lori. Bill, I’ll call you during the week. Maybe we can get together.”
“Yes, let’s do that!” Bill turned and walked away, just a little too quickly, looking at his watch. He knew Lissa would be waiting for him in the hotel room. She’d be wearing something expensive that exposed lots of skin. A bottle of champagne would be sitting in a bucket of ice next to the bed. She was an adventurous lover, which made her quite irresistible.
How long can I respectfully wait to re-marry?
With that thought in his head he jumped into his red Audit TT. The one Lori helped him choose, but Lissa paid for. Life was good, or so he thought. He didn’t know he had a passenger. His dead wife sat unseen in the back seat.
Your days are numbered Bill! I could kill you right now, but I want to see you suffer!

You’ll be Sorry!

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A small group of mourners left the graveyard. Jean’s parents, her sister and her husband. The look on her parents face was that of grief and raw disbelief. They clung to each other, tears streaming down their tired faces. Lori, her sister was sad and confused. Bill, her husband, wore a mask of guilt.
“I’m so sorry!” he said as they walked away.
No you’re not sorry now, but you will be!
Jean was raised a catholic, suicide was not tolerated, yet her lifeless body lay in a wooden box in the ground. Overdose! Shame to the family! She wasn’t at rest though, she crouched in the shadows watching. Bill looked sorry, but it was for show, for the funeral, for the family. His girlfriend waited for him in a hotel close by. Jean knew the place well, she’d followed him there a week ago.
Watched them through the window, saw them leave the restaurant and get into the elevator. Jean approached the front desk and asked for a spare key, said she couldn’t remember the room, but her husband was waiting for her. Gave her name.
“Ah yes, Mr. Richardson, room 102”
She mounted the stairs and stood listening outside the bedroom door. She heard their sighs, whispers, moans.
Opening the door she stood and watched.
Naked bodies so absorbed in love-making they didn’t notice her.
She fled, Bill was her whole life, she was pregnant with his child. Barely able to see though her tears, she drove home.

A bottle of Riesling and a thirty sleeping pills did the trick. Death came quickly and she was thankful, but it wasn’t over.

Hiding in the bushes by the graveyard Jean’s was no longer asleep. Her troubled spirit angry, and it wanted revenge!

Pop Tinkle Tinkle

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It was dark a cold. Lynette quickened her pace. Central Park was quiet and deserted. A short cut home after a date gone wrong. Computer dating wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Pop, tinkle, tinkle!
She stopped dead in her tracks. Silence. Lynette walked as fast as her heels would allow. She’d have taken her shoes off if it weren’t so cold.
Pop, tinkle, tinkle….
She didn’t stop this time, but pulled her coat tightly around her and kept going. The night became even darker as the street light ahead of her exploded. It popped and then the bulb shattered on the ground.
It has to be the cold temperature making them explode!
She continued walking, trying to reach the lights ahead, but they too exploded before she got to them. Surrounded by darkness she stood still and held her breath.
Why is it so quiet? I’m in the middle of New York? What happened to the traffic?
FOOTSTEPS – FAST HEAVY FOOTSTEPS!
Oh GOD, please help me.
Lynette began to run, looking over her shoulder as she did so.
Leave me be, who ever you are, just leave me be.
Twisting her ankle, she hit the ground hard and squealed in pain. He cell phone slid across the icy path beyond her reach.
A monstrous black army boot stomped down on it. Lynette looked up slowly, terrified of what she would see. Long jean clad legs, a pair of gloved hands, wide shoulders, and then the face. Recognition! Her disastrous date had followed her….

Yup, this crazy old British gal is writing again. New book coming out soon, but in the meantime enjoy my short bursts. I have to get them out of my crowded brain. Check out my very cheap first book on Amazon. Never going to be a top seller, but I’ve been told its fun!

Dead of July

 

 

Vampire Lust!

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His lips touched my earlobe as he spoke. The feeling made my body tingle. It was strange, but exciting. It was also terrifying. I was thirteen and his touch stirred emotions I’d never felt before. Repulsion and excitement coursed through my body. I pulled away from him.

“I’m fine, I can walk on my own”

His dead eyes came to life. They shone with amusement, excitement, lust! He was using my mum to get to me. He wanted something from me? What was it? What did I have that he wanted?

 

Breaking Through!

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I’d almost given up on myself. I love to write, been doing it since I started High School. I wrote when I was unhappy. I wrote when I was happy. So much in my head! I’ve only published one novel I’m proud to admit is mine. It’s never going to be on the best seller list, but I’m not ashamed of it. It was my introduction to publishing.

Dead of July – Amazon

I have three more stories finished and ready to put into a compilation, “Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales”. Whats holding me up? My last story “The Engineer”. This story started with nothing but a title floating around in my head. At first it was set in Northern Italy, but it moved across Europe to North Yorkshire, before getting lost in my brain. The Engineer is back now, struggling to be free,  hammering at my temples, scratching the back of my eyeballs, fighting his way out. I need to get his story finished before he finishes me. I’ve heard he drinks blood!

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Wild Garlic

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“Roberto is that wild garlic?” Mum asked, looking at the white pungent bunch of flowers he held.

“Yes, Phoebe, it is, I picked them along the path by the river on the way here.”

He turned around to look directly at me menacingly.

“I hear it keeps vampires away!”

He smiled at me hungrily licking his lips, which were no longer dark against his perfect milky skin, but blood red. I knew it was my blood he wanted, not my mum’s. Terrified I fled the living room and slammed the door to the stairs; I shut my bedroom door too. My so-called Uncle wanted to hypnotize me. He wanted drink my blood.

I knew Garlic wasn’t going to protect me.

Brompton-on-Swale

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I’d planned to have this book released by Christmas 2017. I know, it didn’t happen. I love writing so much I don’t have time to publish, and I certainly can’t afford a publisher. Oh well, when it eventually does get released later this year it’s going to be a bargain book for those of you who love England, especially the north-east. The stories packed into this book include;

Ghosts on the Sand (set in Blackpool)
Guy at the Bar (set in Brompton-on-Swale and Richmond)
Camera (set in Brompton-on-Swale and Richmond)
The Engineer (set in a fictitious village in County Durham)

Why are most of my stories set in the North East? Because it’s the best part of England. Northerners are genuine, down to earth and fun!

I was born in Bishop Aukland, lived in Shildon until I was 4 years old. I then fled with my mam to Etherly and Butterknowle to escape my violent dad. Mam finally found a job and house in Summerhouse, county Durham, where we lived until 1967. When she remarried we moved to Brompton-on-Swale, the village that shaped my life. Even though I live in the United States now (well until I retire to Italy), Brompton-on-Swale is on my mind a great deal. I wish I could become a famous writer. If I did I’d make sure to let everyone know where I came from. I’d tell them about that down to earth little village, where everyone knew everyone else and looked out for their neighbors. Many folks were born there and never moved away. They are the lucky ones. My wandering spirit won’t let me stay in one place too long. I pop back every now and again. Yes, it’s changed, but I still think of it as home.