TV Zombie

tv_zombie

Norah whispered softly to her pup as she carried her home.
“Please don’t die on me. You’re my baby, you got me through college, and law school. I need you.”
Lacie’s breathing was shallow, she no longer whimpered, and her little body was limp.
“Almost home baby, almost safe.”
Why aren’t the lights on along the driveway?
She thought of calling John again, but changed her mind. As she stepped onto the asphalt driveway, the lights came back on, dimly at first, slowly growing brighter.
Must have been a power cut.
Then lights became abnormally bright and one by one, as she passed them, the bulbs exploded. Holding Lacie close, she continued slowly towards the house.
Somethings wrong here, very wrong.
A strange blue light spilled from the open drapes in the living room window. She left the path and walked across the lawn to see what it was. Peering into her own house she saw the silhouette of her husband John. He was standing in front of the television, staring at a screen that showed nothing but blue static. Norah watched him for thirty seconds or more. He began to speak, but not in his normal voice. The words were monotone and in a language she’d never heard.
What the hell is going on here?
Her husband turned around and walked towards the window. Nora held
her breath.
Don’t let him see me!
Why was she suddenly afraid of her husband? His face was blank, expressionless.
Did he see me?
He closed the drapes, shutting her out. The static grew louder, it surrounded her. Norah became dizzy, she wanted to throw up.
I have to get Lacie to the vet.
A loud pulsing buzz erupted from Norah’s hom. It made the air feel heavy and oppresive.
Lacie whimpered weakly, spurring Norah to take action, but two steps were all she managed before her legs gave way. Norah’s brain switched off moments before her body made contact with the soft wet grass.

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Wait at the Gates of Heaven for me – Terry!

98387720_-band-transistor-radio-fm-am-marine-sw-shortwave-batteryPete went to turn the radio off, but it wasn’t switched on. He removed the batteries. It still played.

“Take it outside, put it in the dustbin, I don’t want it in my flat anymore.”

He was hesitant to touch it, and I didn’t blame him, it had to go. With the radio under his arm, he ran downstairs, I watched for him through the window, but he didn’t appear in the back yard where the bins were located. Where was he? I stood at the top of the stairs in silence. No sign of him. Five agonizing minutes passed, during which I chewed on my nails, and willed him to come back.

The door at the bottom of the stairs opened and he appeared.

“Are you alright?” I asked him.

“Yea, I’ll be fine.”

“What happened? Where did you go?”

“I ran down to the building site, you know the one, just off Frenchgate.”

“Yes, they’re renovating some old homes, close to where I work. Why’d you go there? I was worried.”

“If I’d put the radio in the dust bin in the back yard we’d still be hearing it now. So would the people in the rest of the building. They’d wonder what was going on, plus it would freak you out!”
“Was it still playing when you dropped tossed it in the skip?”

“Yes, it was playing a different tune? It switched to that old song by Twinkle.”

“I only know one song by Twinkle.” I said. My heart was beating faster now, “it’s the one called “Terry”, about a boy who dies in a motorcycle accident.”

Pete looked at me, “It’s playing over and over again.”

I thought about the guy in the leather jacket as the song played out in my brain. Please wait at the Gate of Heaven for me, Terry!

“I don’t know what to do, or how to help you. Why aren’t you freaking out more?”

“Stuff like this happens to me, I’m used to it. I told you about it before. My gran sees things too, I guess it skipped my mam’s generation and I’m stuck with the gift. This is a bit different though. Usually its family I see. Who ever is haunting me now sought me out.”

“The guy on the motorbike, is he real?”

I thought about it, “I’m not sure yet. I thought he was, but now I’m beginning to wonder. Shame because I fancied him like crazy.”

Pete laughed. It broke the tension. “What about the gypsy?”

“She’s not real. Sometimes I see her as an old woman, and sometimes a beautiful young girl. The two are definitely connected.”

“Who’d you see first?”

“The guy, in fact I feel like he’s in my head the whole time now.”

We were both silent for a while.

“You’d better get ready for work, I’ll walk you there. What time do you finish?”

“Five o clock”

“I’ll meet you outside too. I’m going to stay until this is over. It may move on with Fairground people. Seems to be tied to them. I still have a key so I’ll bring some of my stuff over.”

“Thank Pete, I’d like you to stay. I don’t think I’m in danger or anything, but it would be nice to have some living breathing company.”

I got washed and dressed and we walked to my office in silence. I arrived a little late, but that was OK, I was still first in. Cindy had a doctor’s appointment and Jan was still sick, it turned out to be Bronchitis. I powered up the computer and then grabbed a cup of coffee. Before sitting down at my desk I wandered over to the window and looked out to the car park, where I’d first seen the irresistible leather clad biker. Only the familiar cars were parked there, no bikes, no smoke rings no…

He said to me he wanted to be near to me
He said he never wanted to be out of my sight
But it’s too late to give this boy my love tonight
Please wait at the gate of heaven for me, Terry.

He said to me he wanted to be close by my side
We had a quarrel, I was untrue on the night he died
And it’s too late to tell this boy how great he was
Please wait at the gate of heaven for me, Terry.

He rode into the night, accelerated his motorbike
I cried to him in fright, don’t do it, don’t do it, don.t do it.

He said to me you are the one I want to be with
He said to me you are the one who my love I shall give
One day he’ll know how hard I prayed for him to live
Please wait at the gate of heaven for me, Terry.

He rode into the night, accelerated his motorbike
I cried to him in fright, don’t do it, don’t do it, don.t do it.

He said to me you are the one I want to be with
He said to me you are the one who my love I shall give
One day he’ll know how hard I prayed for him to live
Please wait at the gate of heaven for me, Terry.

Terry, Terry, Terry.

I dropped my cup!

Dead of July, my first novel, is available on Amazon for $0.99. If you like my blog, give my book a try. Thanks for stopping by.

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.

Brompton on Swale – Where it all Began

Dead of July is my current novel. It was released in December 2013 and I’m proud of it. I’m not Stephen King, but being Sandra Thompson is just as much fun.

I was lucky enough to attend an evening with Stephen King in September 2013. He gave a talk in Boulder Colorado, where he lived when he wrote The Shining. The Shining, of course, is based on the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park. I’ve visited the Stanley Hotel several times. It has a great bar. I could not, however, go anywhere near the elevator. No way, not just because of Stephen King’s book, but because that elevator is seriously haunted. How did I know? Thats another story!

Stephen King’s home is Maine, and he’s proud of it. Although I live in Colorado I was born in County Durham and raised in Brompton-on-Swale, North Yorkshire. My very first novel ‘Guy at the Bar’ was inspired by something that happened while I lived there back in the early seventies. I met a drunken stranger in my local pub. Unfortunately this man decided to follow me home. Have you ever tried running down a back lane in six-inch platforms? It’s not easy believe me. I did manage to escape, but not for long. He came back to haunt me.

I’m currently re-editing ‘Guy at the Bar’, along with my other short story, which is set in Blackpool. Writing is a hobby, which I hope to turn into a retirement career. Who knows, one day I may even make a profit. A girl can dream.

This is where it all started

This is where it all started

To Young to Die!

swale-at-sunset

“Someone help him, it’s Michael. He’s drowning.”

Without hesitation two cops rushed forward and jumped into the river. Lindsay tried to stand, ready to jump in the water herself, but Barbara pulled her back.

“Look, they’ve got him, what could you do?”

“Is he alive? He has to be alive.”

In a matter of minutes Michael was pulled onto the riverbank. The nurse went to work on him immediately, “Give us some space.” She yelled. “Back off.”

The crowd stood back giving Lindsay a clear view. She watched in fear praying Michael would open his eyes.  Did his eyelids flicker? Lindsay held her breath willing him to live. The crowd watched silently and when the nurse finally gave up, tears in her eyes. She looked back at Lindsay defeated.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can do. It’s too late.”

The sound of distant sirens broke the heavy silence; people drifted away, nothing more to see. Lindsay shuffled weakly across to where Michael lay and looked down at his lifeless body, tears dripping from her chin.

“No, this can’t be. Everyone around me is dying.” She laid her head on his chest and cried. No one spoke. No one moved. The sirens grew closer, but they were too late. Barbara put her hand gently on Lindsay’s back.

“Come on, leave him, you can’t do anything now.”

Lindsay didn’t move. “I should be dead, why am I still alive?”

“Hey! Stop where you are!”

Lindsay looked up when she heard Barbara shout sternly at someone. She couldn’t see who approached, but the other policemen ran towards him urgently. When Barbara stood aside she recognized the grief-stricken face.

“John, I’m so sorry.” She began to cry again.

John fell on his knees by his brother’s body.

“No, no! Dear God NO!”

Lindsay put her arms around him and they cried together, tears mingling.

John spoke, maybe to his brother, maybe to Lindsay, maybe to God. “It’s all my fault, I brought him to to bloody country. I should have left him in Ireland with the kids. I shouldn’t have tried to interfere with Patrick. It did no good. Now your friends are dead. It cost me my brother. ”

Lindsay held him tight. “You know Patrick was planning to kill again, who knows how many this time. Michael’s dead, but who knows how many people he saved. It could have been hundreds. How many more bombs was Patrick going to make?”

They clung to each other a little longer before Barbara helped Lindsay to her feet. A couple of paramedics approached. “Come on, let’s make sure you’re okay,” she said as she guided Lindsay to them.

“John had nothing to do with this. He was trying to stop Patrick.”

“We still need to talk to him, but not now.”

As she walked away Lindsay looked back over her shoulder and saw Barbara kneeling on the ground next to John, her arm around him soothing him. Oh dear God why Michael? 

She take no more, her legs gave way and she sunk to the ground.

Yes, another short story almost over, sorry its so sad. Life doesn’t always have a happy ending so make the most of every day. If you enjoy my writing, check out my first Dead of July on Amazon http://amzn.to/1aXh4Md.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Making Bombs by the River

plumpton01The Military Police arrived first. They screeched to a halt a couple of hundred feet away from the pub. A crowd had already gathered there. Lindsay and Michael sat on a fence a ways back from everyone else and watched.

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, if that had been a bomb it would have exploded by now.” Michael said.

“Are you sure you should be here? I mean with your Irish accent and all. You know they’re going to be suspicious. The Irish aren’t too popular in these parts at the moment.”

“If I leave now it will be even more suspicious.”

A voice came from the bushes. “Michael!”

Lindsay and Michael looked at each other.

“Over here, it’s me, John.”

Michael didn’t look over his shoulder. Instead he kept his eyes on the Military Police as he answered quietly.

“What are you doing here? Get away or they’ll think you did this.”

Lindsay froze! She wanted to look around, but daren’t. The MP’s were heading their way.

“I just want you to know this wasn’t me.”

“John I know, Patrick’s around, we saw him. Now go”

They didn’t hear John disappear, which is just as well. A local Police car pulled up in front of them and Barbara, along with another Policeman got out.

“I see you two have become friends.”

“Hi Barbara. Not exactly friends, we’re helping each other.” Lindsay replied. She looked at Michael, who looked uncomfortable and ready to run.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, Michael has nothing to do with any of this.”

Barbara fixed her gaze on Michael. “What do you have to say for yourself? Do you deserve Lindsay’s trust?”

Michael looked up. “I hope so. I’m trying to help her. I need to get my facts straight before I talk to you. I don’t want to waste your time. I mean no harm.”

The Policeman accompanying Barbara looked at Michael suspiciously when he heard him speak. He put his hand on his radio. Barbara saw the movement. “Stuart it’s okay, we don’t need backup, and I know this kid. He means no harm.” Then she looked a Lindsay. “Mel’s funeral is tomorrow right? I’ll be there, in the background watching. I don’t think it’s a good idea for your new friend to be there do you?”

“No I don’t.”

“Dear God, do you think I’d really go? I have more respect for these families than you would ever know.”

Barbara looked at him suspiciously. “I want to see both of you in the Richmond cop shop before the end of the week. The day after the funeral would be good. If I don’t see you Michael, I’ll come looking for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

Barbara looked at them both. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

They both swung their legs over the fence and disappeared into the bushes.

Barbara looked at her colleague, “Not a word about this, I think letting them do their own thing for now will help us. Lindsay lost all of her friends in that bloody disco. She’s not going to hand out with a terrorist.”

“Okay, it’s your call.”

Down by the river, in a secluded place, Patrick sat alone. He had a Tescos bag between his legs. It was filled with everything he needed to make another bomb. Anyone watching him would believe he was talking to himself and give him a wide berth. In view of the plastic explosives he carried, that would be a good idea.

“Colleen my love, I’ll be with you soon, but not before I blow a couple more of these bastards to oblivion.”

A voice whispered through the trees. I can wait! I love you!

Patrick smiled!

Dead of July

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Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

 

The Restless Dead

bigstock-beautiful-woman-with-stone-lik-12160685Lindsay and Michael walked along a back lane to the banks of the river Swale. Other than the sound of birds chattering, it was peaceful, almost like being on another planet. The fire and it’s aftermath still tormented Lindsay’s brain, but the surroundings were soothing. Neither of them spoke as they walked along the well-worn track by the river.

“There’s a clearing up ahead with some big rocks we can sit on, the river is shallower there so if this is a ploy to drown me, you’d struggle.” Lindsay said.

“Why on earth would I drown you?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know. Why are you here?”

They continued in silence until they found the clearing, and found a couple of boulders to sit on. Michael made pebbles skip across the glassy surface. It irritated Lindsay. She was on edge and wanted to know why he kept following her.

“We’re not here to play, what is it you want with me? And who the hell is Colleen? I can’t believe I’m even asking. I must be losing my mind. If it’s not bad enough seeing images of my dead friend, now I’m seeing the ghost of some Irish woman I’ve never met. Is this your doing?”

Lindsay began to cry again, a sad hopeless sound. Michael said nothing until her sobs subsided. He knew she wouldn’t listen. They didn’t know they were being watched. Eventually Lindsay stopped crying.

“Sorry! Sorry for everything. You wouldn’t be able to see any of this if you weren’t tuned in to that sort of thing. I’m not making you see anything. I’d give anything to turn back the clock and not have you suffer like this. I can’t! I’m just trying to help.”

“What are you trying to help with? Do you know who started the fire? Do you know who killed my friends? If you do, why are you talking to me instead of the police?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing ever is with you bloody Irish. You try to blame religion for all of your hatred, but I don’t believe any of it. I thought God was about love not hate.”

Michael dropped his head into his hands and sighed.

“This has nothing to do with religion, or the IRA. It’s about me brother John. Colleen was his wife. She’s dead!”

“I’m sorry, how does that tie up with this….”

There was a loud splash in the water at the other side of the river. Michael jumped to his feet.

“Come on, we have to go.”

“Why it was just a fish jumping?” Lindsay stood up and looked into the water. Two reflections looked back at her. The head of a beautiful, but pale woman peered over her shoulder. Lindsay almost fell as she twisted around to see who was behind her. Michael was the only person there. She looked across the river to see the shape of a man disappearing among the trees. Michael grabbed her hand urgently. “Come on, we have to go now.” He said urgently.

Michael, Michael, where’s my Johnny boy. Why can’t I see him?

Dead of July Another book by Sandra Thompson. Buy it on Amazon.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

A Novel takes time!

Anyone who has been following my progress as a writer will know that over the past year I have produced two novellas, of which I am very proud. The first was ‘Girl on the Beach’ and the second was ‘Guy at the Bar’.

Writing and publishing these books was a learning process which I enjoyed. I met a lot of very helpful, talented and interesting people. I was, and still am, following my dreams and having fun.  That said, I think I maybe rushed these first two novella’s a little. I think the stories are good, but I should have taken more care with the editing.

Where do I go from here? A novel of course. A novel I have almost finished. I have been working on my novel for almost a year, but that is OK because I am learning ‘more haste, less speed’. I really did rush out these novella’s. Everyone tells me they are a good read and very enjoyable, but I want my books to be a ‘Great Read’ and more than just enjoyable.

My novel has no name yet, but Sheila is the main character and in trouble again. In this story, which is set in Germany in 1982, she is married to a British Soldier and loving the experience of living in Germany, until she crosses paths with an evil Russian. I don’t want to give too much away so follow my blogs and follow my story.
I am not going to rush this story. If it takes me another year to finish, so be it. I need the detail to be right and the ending perfected. I also need a title. ‘Escape!’, ‘The run away’, ‘Anna’ and ‘Evil Cossack’ are all under consideration.
This is the story that may decide upon my future as a writer so I want to get it right.
This is novel is going to be worth waiting for.
I am posting unedited clips of this novel on my blog. Comments and title suggestions welcome and encouraged. Help me out and I promise you, you will not regret it.

Next stop New York

My friend Tanya

So my friends came through for me and gave my book a true Colorado send off. It was a wonderful evening thanks to the ‘host with the most’, yes I am talking about you Roberta.

I was able to relax and sign copies of my book.

You all bought copies (some of you bought several) of my book and asked for personal messages to be written in the front with my special book signing pen (thanks Joanna).

I am truly grateful to have so many good friends and when I make it to the big time, I will certainly keep my promise and take my group of faithful followers to New York with me. Let the good times roll!

Signing my first book for Roberta

Enjoying talking about my book

And a good time was had by all