Death by Rifle?

Death by RifleJOY1690.0LI knew the old guy would most likely be at work, but I had to check. Someone was trying to make contact with me and I had a feeling it was his daughter. Why? Who the hell knew. Maybe I was the only person in the area who was open to her. I needed it over with. I needed my life back. Grabbing my coat, and stepping into my shoes, I set off up the road purposefully. I hadn’t gone far when my cell phone rang, it was Les.

“Hey, you didn’t call me back last night, still mad at me?”

“No, just tired, I went to bed. Not feeling great. I took the day off work.” Silence!

Ok say something! Ask me why I’m not feeling well! Give me some sympathy at least.

“You’re in the middle of another episode aren’t you?”

“Episode? What do you mean episode? You sound just like my mam.”

“I didn’t mean to. Are you going to be OK? It’s just hard to get my head around this stuff.”

“Why? When you’re mam died you knew it was going to happen. Explain that! You’ve seen things in this house that you can’t explain. Why is it so goddamn hard for you to get your head around this?”

“I know, I’m sorry. Just be careful OK!”

“I will!”

“Got to go, conference call starting. I’ll call later.”

With that he hung up. I ended the call and stuffed the phone back in my pocket. My fingers touched something cold. The pendant! I pulled it out and looked at it. I thought I’d left this with Bonnie in the Stagecoach! I opened it up and looked at the photos inside,they didn’t change the way they had last night. One side of the heart showed a young couple, and the other side was the face of a little girl, she was as cute as a button, her face beaming with happiness. I didn’t recognize any of them, but if I had to guess, I’d say the young couple were the old man and his wife. The little girl had to be his daughter. I choked back the tears. What a tragedy. Mother and child gone, and the old man wishing he were with them. It made me want to call Les back and tell him I loved him. Who knew what tomorrow held?

I walked along the driveway to the ranch, the neglected yard like a wilderness at either side of the rutted driveway. I approached the door cautiously, remembering what had happened the previous evening. The porch steps creaked as I mounted them. The door swung open slowly as a knocked. With a strong sense of deja vu, I stepped inside.

“Anyone home?”

Silence!

Then just like the previous evening I heard a noise from above. I was about to turn and flee when the old man appeared, he was carrying a rifle.

“I was expecting you!” he said.

Haunted House!

DSC07093

photo from davidstillman.blogspot.com

All I could think about was the sad face that haunted my dreams at night, and my thoughts all day. The face that was taking over my life. Why? I didn’t know her. If it was the old man’s daughter, she was long since dead. My day at work was painfully slow. Finally, eager to talk to the old man, I made and excuse to leave early.

January dusk soon fell, cold and uninviting. I was grateful for my heated car seat after being chilled to the bone walking across the parking lot. It was dark when I pulled onto the drive way of the ranch. There wasn’t a light to be seen in anywhere in the house either. Wishing I’d brought a flashlight I opened the car door. The breeze was no longer gentle.

Watching my step I walked in the direction of the huge shadow which loomed ahead of me. It’s all I could see of the house. I approached the front door and tapped on it nervously, feeling like an intruder smothered in a blanket of darkness.

The door swung open slowly, creaking as it did so. Doors always creaked in these situations.

“Hello, is anyone home?”

No answer, no movement. The air was deadly still. I took a step forward into the house. The temperature dropped several degrees when I did so. How could it be colder inside than out. My breath formed a cloud in front of my face.

“Hello.” I said softly.

A floorboard creaked. The sound came from above. I looked in the direction of the stairs, but thought the better of going up there.

What if he’s dead? 

Standing just inside the doorway I wondered what to do next. I had no business walking around the house uninvited. People did that in movies and it always ended badly. Turning around I pulled the door shut and walked back to the car. Should I leave a note?

Footsteps crunched on the gravel drive way and I looked up expecting to see the old man. The steps continued, but there was no one to be seen. Instinctively I locked the car door. Footsteps crunched past me, stepping onto the porch. Looking in my rearview mirror, I watched the front door open and close on its own.

Time to get out of Dodge! 

I started the car and floored the accelerator, pebble dashing the front of the house with gravel as I left.

Thank God I didn’t go upstairs! 

Darkness Comes!

inside-barn-e1392609756683

The air was frigid. I shivered. Les, wake up. My mind said the words, but my mouth wouldn’t open. I tried to move. I was paralyzed.

Open your eyes, you’re dreaming, wake up!, but I knew my eyes were wide open. There was nothing to see but a fog of darkness.

“Help” I whispered feebly, so feebly I couldn’t hear my own words. “Les, help me.”

A hand touched mine. It was icy cold. I didn’t want to see who it belonged to. It guided me slowly though the dark cold air, cold hands touching my body as I passed by. Leave me be. Let me go.

A bright light pierced the darkness ahead of me. We moved slowly towards it and then we turned a corner sharply.

The light is evil!

Malevolent whispers raped the silence.

“Where am I?”

Giggles, whispers, singing.

I’m in an asylum. I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. “Les!” The only thing that came out of my mouth was a cloud of white breath. It hung in front of me like a frozen cloud.

I hit my head on something sharp, but I couldn’t raise my hand to rub it. Warm blood trickled  down my cheek. I was falling.

The giggles turned to hysterical laugher. “She fell, she fell, look at her. Oh look at her. We have her now”

“No you don’t. She’s only visiting, leave her be,” It was my grandma’s voice, soothing, gentle.

Where am I? 

Shapes emerged from the darkness. I was back in the barn.

Hush little baby don’t you cry, mamma’s going to sing you a lullaby.

“WAKE UP. WHATS WRONG WITH YOU? WAKE UP”

I gulped and sat up.

Les was shaking me.

“That was one hell of a dream!” he said!

I write for fun, but when I retire, I plan to make money from my stories. Just imagine, making money doing something I love. I know Iv’ve left it a little late, but I’ve actually been writing send I was 12 years old. Therapy, cheaper to put your thoughts and fears down on paper than lie on that leather couch and be analyzed. Anyway, if you want a cheap amusing read, go buy my first novel on Amazon. It’s only $0.99 and its a fun read Dead of July 

Also check out my Writer Page on FacebookDead of July – Facebook

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

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

 

Starved and Abused – German Ghost Story

 

German ID

 

This is a mock-up of the German ID, the one Anna would have had would have her name photo on it. You could not go anywhere without it.

 

ESCAPE WITH YOUR LIFE

He had taken her ausweis, (German ID) which made it difficult for her to get away from him. She said he beat her and forced her to have sex with him, one night when he was drunk and his brother was staying, he forced her to have sex with his brother too. She was still only twenty.

Pretty soon I was crying too, but I was angry, very angry that any woman could be treated this way. I found it hard to understand why she had not escaped when he was drunk, and gone to the police, but unless you were in that situation, it was hard to make judgments.

She must have been an emotional wreck when her parents died, and she had only been fifteen. When the food came, despite being so upset, Anna ate like it was her first meal in weeks.

The waiter who brought our food, watched her, he looked sad too. I am guessing he had been listening to our conversation because when she left the table to go to the bathroom he came and spoke to me. “Please Fraulein, no pay for this food. It is my pleasure to give to you. Please give money instead to this Frau, help her go away from here.” I was touched. We had eaten there often and this man was familiar with both Les and myself, but I had never seen this side of him.

We sat a while after we finished eating. Anna had stopped crying, and didn’t have much to say. With the help of the waiter, who translated her German to English and my English to German, I asked her if she had any other family, and she said she had an Aunt in Stuttgart. She said the Aunt had written to her, but she never got chance to read the letters as Viktor would show her the envelopes and then tear them up.  She had only escaped tonight because he had fallen asleep in a drunken stupor and left the door keys on the floor by the chair. She wanted to get back before he woke up. I begged her not to go back, but she said she must. She wouldn’t give me a reason, just told me that she had things to do before she left. I told her that I would wait for her here, in this restaurant the following night and I would help her get away from Viktor. She looked at me doubtfully, but agreed.

I took forty deutsche marks from my purse and pressed them in her hand. We walked out to my car and I opened the door for her to get in. She declined and walked purposefully down the road. We were only about a half mile from Borsigplatz and I think she was being careful not to involve anyone else with this terrifying man

My first book ‘ Girl on the Beach’ is available to read as an e-book for $4.99 by visiting Amazon or Smashwords. Click on the links below.

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German Ghost Story – Saving Anna!

Balkan Restaurant

If you have been following my story, you will know that in the last installment, I met Anna again a couple of days after the incident in the park.

I literally bumped into her in a German Supermarket near my home in Borzigplatz. She was bruised and scared and my heart went out to her. I persuaded her to have dinner with me.

 

 

Chapter 17

“Shall we go and get something to eat?” I asked her

She lowered her head and nodded.

I picked up my shopping basket with one hand, and held her arm with the other, just in case she decided to run away. After paying at the checkout, I led Anna to my car. “come sie mit to mine haus?” I was using my very best English/German mix but she understood.

“Nein, Viktor can find us there, him will find your haus, das ist nein gut”. I understood, she was looking out for me, he might be watching and she was trying to protect me. She was a good person, with all her bruises and through all her pain, she was still trying to make sure no one else got hurt. I appreciated it. I was impulsive sometimes and didn’t think things through, it seemed like she was thinking for both of us.

 

We found a quiet table

 

 

We got in the car, and I drove in the direction of Dortmund, and found a small Balkan Restaurant. It was a restaurant that Les and I ate in often. As we walked in Anna looked all around the room as though she was expecting someone to be watching her or following her.  I found a table that was tucked away at the back.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to eat something?” She nodded in response so I ordered a platter of meat, rice and salad to share. I also ordered two beers. She cried for the first five minutes we sat there, sipping beer in between sobs. Our waiter brought us some schnapps “on the house” and eventually she calmed down a little and spoke to me.

In broken English, which was much less broken than my German, she told me her story. Anna lived with Viktor, they were not married, but she had lived with him since her parents had been killed in a car accident five years ago. He seemed nice at first, more like an uncle.  He had been a neighbor and when she was evicted from the parents home because she had no way of paying the rent, he told her she could move in with him. He was much older than her and after a few weeks he started treating her badly.

She had no money and he wouldn’t let her go out to work, she was locked in the house most of the time, sometimes even tied to a radiator, she was terrified of him. He worked from a room in the back of the house. She didn’t know what he did, but he got some unsavory visitors at all hours of the night. Always men, and mostly Russian! He didn’t leave the house much, all of his business was done by telephone. Anna was terrified of him and tried leave once, but he caught and he beat her so she couldn’t go out of the apartment for a month because she was too ashamed of the way she looked.

If you like this story, check out ‘Girl on the Beach’ available to download as an ebook for $4.99 by clicking on the links below.

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German Ghost Story – Walk in the Park – Chapter 13

Paulo Rossi 1982 Italian HeroPlease enjoy chapter 13 of my German Ghost Story. The eighties were good times and I am glad I was around to enjoy them.

 

We sat back and allowed ourselves to be infected with World Cup Fever. Italy scored first in this Game, Paulo Rossi supplying the goal, and I cheered my little heart out.  Socrates scored for Brazil soon after, and then Paulo Rossi scored again.  With two goals safely under Italy’s belt, I felt I could comfortably go and check the food that was starting to smell good in the oven.  Julie helped me.  She enjoyed football, but wasn’t as wrapped up in it as me.  No more goals were scored before half time, so when we sat down to eat, Italy had the lead, and I was happy. Everyone was pretty happy actually, how could you not be when players with names like Socrates, and Paulo Rossi were scoring magnificent goals.  Good Times, no Great Times.

It was hard not to have fun when you were in your early twenties, living in a Foreign Country, enjoying new and different things.  We danced to Michael Jackson, Kool and the Gang, Terrence Trent Derby, Prince, Earth Wind and Fire along with others. They were exciting times, times that should not be lost or forgotten. It didn’t seem right that at the same time, men were getting killed in a war thousands of miles away from their home in the Falkland Islands, but it made everyone want to enjoy every minute of being alive.

We ate dinner at half time, with the television turned down a little so we could hear the noise outside.  As I mentioned earlier, we lived in an Italian community, more by accident than by design. The hot weather meant that people had their windows and doors open, not only in their homes, but in the surrounding restaurants and bars.  There was a buzz, lots of Italian accents shouting and singing.  It was intoxicating.  Even though I may have been the only one in our little group supporting Italy, the atmosphere affected everyone.  The food was good, I loved cooking, Graham of course ate until he was fit to burst, and then as the players came back out for the second half of this game, which was being played in the beautiful Spanish city of Barcelona, we went and sat down in front of the television again.  I had made cake and custard too, but we forgot about it in the excitement of the moment. We were all drinking German wine of course, which in my opinion was the best in the world, and obviously very cheap to buy.

The game continued and Falcao scored for Brazil, making the scores an even two all, nail-biting stuff. Did this mean there would be extra time and penalties, I hoped not, that was just too much to handle. I couldn’t look when they took those penalty shots. No need to worry about penalties because five or six minutes after Brazil’s second goal.  Paulo Rossi scored a hat trick! I jumped in the air, wine slopping everywhere, but I didn’t care because I was lost in the moment. As long as I can remember I loved everything Italian, the people, the language, the cars, the clothes, the ice cream. Most of all though, I loved watching them play their temperamental football game!

 


 

Chicken, Rice & Peas….and of course FOOTBALL!

Curry chicken, rice & peas and football

http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/food/articles/2009/01/07/jamaican_curried_chicken_with_rice_and_peas/

Looks good doesn’t it. If you want to give it a try, click on the link above and follow the recipe.

A WALK IN THE PARK

Its been a while since I updated you on my antics in Germany, so today the story continues.

My premonitions had given me a break since we moved to Germany. I thought maybe the powers that sent them to me hadn’t been able to cross the English Channel and it had actually been a bit of a relief.  I only got these dreams/visitations/premonitions once or twice a year, but they could be both alarming and exhausting.  I wasn’t in control of how things turned out when they happened and that scared me.  These events had started when I was very young, but they still alarmed me. During the next couple of years, whilst in Germany, it seemed like my premonitions went on ‘overdrive’, but I had only been there a couple of months at this point, and my psychic had been quiet.

The rest of the day was pretty normal! I was really looking forward to getting home and watching the football, Italy v. Brazil.  This would be interesting, Les and Graham would be cheering for Brazil, I was sure of it.  Julie didn’t really care as long as there was wine to be drunk and I would of course, be cheering for Italy, which I always felt was my home team.  I was hoping Les’s mood had improved, I was sure it would, football always made him happy, especially World Cup Football.  I worked in the gift shop for the rest of the afternoon, which was pretty quiet, making the day go slowly.  Eventually four o clock came and I left work, I was expecting to have to take the tram home, but when I walked off camp, Les was there waiting for me.

I got in the car and could tell immediately he was in a better mood. Les was extremely temperamental and it affected his moods and made life difficult for me at times.  I was an open book, never stopped talking, gave information without been asked, exactly the opposite of my quiet husband.  Opposites attract, I know, but sometimes for someone as open as me, it is really hard to keep quiet, which I often had to be. The tires on our little Datsun almost squealed as we pulled away, it was just after four o clock and we had a football match to watch at five fifteen.  It was about a half hours drive home from work, and hopefully we would make it just before the rush hour hit.  Les had told Graham and Julie to come around at around five o clock, just in time to settle down and watch the game.  I was getting excited already.  We hit a little traffic, but not enough to make us late. Our guests had actually pulled up just before us and were getting out of their car bearing gifts of wine and beer.  When we got upstairs, Les took care of making sure everyone had a drink, and I put the oven on.  I had prepared chicken, rice and peas already so, so all I needed to do was put the chicken in the oven to cook, and warm up the rice.  I quickly put a salad together, and set the table, before joining everyone in front of the television. Let the game begin!