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

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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

 

The Office at Night (and beyond) Part Three

 

I stepped out onto the cobbled street and into a dream.

It was dark and very quiet outside. I hear the clock in the market square chime. I can’t remember the number of times, but I knew it was the early morning. I looked around me, not scared, but very confused. Nothing was how it should be. I wandered up the steep hill to the to of Frenchgate, all the while looking around me. I couldn’t be dreaming because I felt everything intensely. I was out of breath from the steep climb. My high heels pinched my toes. When I reached the top of the hill, where Frenchgate met Richmond Road, I sat down on the ancient stone steps and rubbed my eyes again before looking down at the deserted street. Well almost deserted street.

A man walked a cow down the middle of the road, instinctively I knew he was taking it to market. He had the street to himself. There were no cars anywhere. The cobbles were worn with time, but not with tyres.

A light flickered on behind the window of what looked like a butcher’s shop. It was not bright enough to be an electric light. It was a candle or gas lamp. I heard a door slam and the sound of someone shoveling coal into a bucket. The town was waking up around me.

Would I wake up too?

I stood up and walked to the top of the steps, to Richmond Road, but there was no road. Not the kind of road I was accustomed to anyway. It was a rough, well-worn track. No car had ever been driven there.

How could this road have changed so much? I drove this road every day. I walked this way to school.

The house across the road was familiar to me, but different. It was covered in climbing roses and ivy. The front door beckoned me, there was a light shining from a bedroom window. I saw a face looking down at me for a fleeting moment, and then it was gone.

What should I do? I was starting to panic. What was happening to me? Surely this was a dream. I walked in the direction of the Market Square in the hopes of seeing someone. The  air around me felt oppressive. I could hear a distant buzzing sound, like a radio that wasn’t tuned in.

Richmond Market Square had the familiar cobbles and town clock. The familiar market stalls were being erected ready for the day. I could see Richmond Castle behind the square.

Nothing else was familiar.

The sky grew a little lighter and more people appeared. Unfamiliar people in period dress. I sat in the market square, as I had when I was younger, and waited. In my youth I waited here for my bus home. There would be no busses today. People passed by me as though I were invisible, which was a relief. How would I explain my short skirt and high-heeled shoes to the sombrely dressed passers-by.

When was I going to wake up?

Haunted Hospital

GOOD OLD ENGLAND has a wealth of stories about haunted hospitals so I thought I would share one with you. Enjoy!

Mail readers tell of ghostly goings-on at city’s old hospital

6:50pm Tuesday 3rd April 2012 in NewsBy Amanda Williams

The Radcliffe Infirmary
The Radcliffe Infirmary

AN APPEAL for spooky hospital stories has unearthed a host of unearthly tales.

Last week the Oxford Mail asked for your ghost stories from the old Radcliffe Infirmary, Oxford’s first hospital.

Former workers Jacquie Pearce-Gervis and Susan Sugden contacted us on the hunt for spooky recollections of the imposing 17th century building in Woodstock Road so they can be chronicled.

The appeal jogged the memory of former Infirmary night nurse Sheila Farrell, 76, who worked in the Kilner plastic surgery ward, which was at one time the Children’s Ward.

Mrs Farrell, who lives in Bampton, said: “We had an alarm system which would sound and flash red if someone needed help.

“We’d turn the sound off at night so as not to disturb other patients.

“This night I must’ve fallen asleep. But I was woken by the feeling of someone stroking my face very lightly, like a child. The alarm light was glowing red.

“When I went to the patient I told him what had happened. He said to me ‘oh that’ll be the children. I often see them in here playing. They come and see if we’re all right.’.”

The Radcliffe Infirmary, or RI as it was known, first opened in 1770 as the city’s first hospital.

It closed in 2007, with most services moving to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Headington and the site is currently being redeveloped by Oxford University.

Susan Allmond, from Wallingford, was born at the RI in 1969.

But she recalls some unusual sightings from her return trips to the hospital as a child.

She said: “I remember seeing a woman in an old nurse’s uniform.

“I remember thinking she just didn’t look of this time or part of the same system as everyone else.

“She had a pure white hat on and a different coloured belt. There was also an old woman who I saw. She was incredibly old, but she had a lovely smile.

“There was something different about them. You could almost see through them, and then they’d be gone.”

The story of the ‘grey lady’ rings a bell with Jenny Holloway, from Botley. Mrs Holloway worked at the RI before services moved to the John Radcliffe site.

She said: “I had a friend who used to say she’d see a little grey lady about the hospital. A lot of people laughed but I didn’t. It gives me goosebumps thinking about it.”

Adrian Taylor, of Eynsham, also remembers seeing an unearthly feminine figure at the hospital.

He said: “I was woken up at 2.15am to a bright light shining through my window. It was almost like sunshine.

“Then I heard a loud bump.

“I looked outside and saw a woman in an old-fashioned nurse’s outfit gliding across the quadrangle down below.

“It was very strange.”

I lived and breathed these stories when I was growing up so I wasn’t surprised in the least when my visitations started. I lived in an area steeped in history. A place where people died by the sword in times gone by. It was also a place where the dead wouldn’t lie down.

My two short stories are available on Amazon.com and are based on my childhood/teenage experiences:

My new novel ‘Dead of July’ is currently being edited and will be released later this year. It is about a young girl married to a British Soldier, living in German in the early eighties. She gets into trouble with the dead as well as the living. 
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Blackpool and beyond

My baby in print

At last my book is in print. I have several orders to personalize and fulfill so my books are going out as fast as they come in. If you would like to purchase one directly from me, please let me know and I will send it to you, personalized for $12.

‘Girl on the Beach’ is set in England in the early sixties, and is about a young girl who started having premonition she didn’t know how to deal with. As she gets older they become more frequent and she does get used to them. Follow Sheila from 1962, through her teens. It’s an exciting and touching journey!

My e-book is still available for $4.99 from:

Girl on the Beach (Smashwords)

Girl on the Beach (UK)

Girl on the Beach (US)

You can contact me directly at sandra@augustthirteenth.com.

‘Guy at the Bar’ is almost ready to go into print, closely followed by my free e-book ‘Flat Country Snow’.

Later in the summer my ‘German Ghost Story’ will be released. Give them a try. I think you will become hooked. These are good stories that everyone can enjoy.

 

 

Guess what I have!!!!!

74 paper pages!

After a long day at work, I came home and checked the mail, and look what I found!

I have a book in print! I feel so important, a paperback with my name on the front.

Of course this is just my copy to proof read, so it will be a couple of weeks before it is available for sale on Amazon and Smashwords.

It is so very exciting though!

A book I can sign and put a special message inside to give as a gift to someone.

I love it!

The last eighteen months, whilst I have been writing and learning how to get published, have been extremely exciting for me. This book may never be a best seller, but its mine!

Buy it, I think you might enjoy it.

Already available as an e-book from Amazon and Smashwords.

 

Girl on the Beach (Smashwords)

Girl on the Beach (UK)

Girl on the Beach (US)

Girl on the Beach – almost in print!

My first book, almost ready to go to print!!!!!

I was so incredibly excited when I got to read the first fully edited version of this story. It read much better than the original.  A good editor knows how to break down the British/US language barriers, and there are some. (Thanks Jenni Gasparrini)

When I saw the first sketch of the cover Mike Brooker prepared, I was thrilled. When I saw the finished product, I was totally blown away! Isn’t it fabulous?

Now with the help of Jenni Gasparrini, Mike Brooker, and the ever helpful, ever patient Nick Taylor from Darkfire Productions http://darkfireproductions.com my book will soon be available to buy as a paperback.

At the end of March, I am flying to Portland, Oregon to meet an old friend and read a couple of chapters of my book to her book club. They are having a ‘Girl(s) on the Beach’ weekend, which will be a great book launch for me.  Thanks Patty, for giving me the opportunity to share this story with you and your friends.

I am having so much fun with this it should be illegal!

Keep checking in! Share my excitement, it’s catching.

To purchase  the e-book for $4.99 please click on the links below!

Girl on the Beach (Smashwords)

Girl on the Beach (UK)

Girl on the Beach (US)

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