Haunted House!

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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! 

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Smoke Turns to Fire – I’ll Teach you to Burn!

Close to the hospital the smoke was dense. Neither of us spoke. Emergency vehicles were parked on either side of the road. Pete slammed on the brakes, almost hitting a police car, invisible until we were almost too close to stop.

“You can’t go any further mate! Only allowing ambulances and fire engines past this point.”

“My brother was in the hospital.” Pete lied.

“Park to the side and walk through. They’re treating everyone for smoke inhalation over in field behind the pub. The fires almost out. Its smoking bad though.” The cop pointed in the direction we needed to go.

This all started with smoke…

After a few steps I stopped and looked over my shoulder. “Did everyone get out okay?” I yelled back at the cop.

“Far as I know, haven’t heard of any fatalities. I think someone’s missing though.”

Please let Mick be safe!

We walked downhill to the field where nurses and doctors busied around patients. I couldn’t’ see Mick.

“Over there,” Pete said.

Mick sat alone on a pile of stones in the far corner of the field. When he saw us approach he smiled.

“Not my day is it?” he said.

I flung my arms around him and gave him a hug.

“Hey, careful, my ribs are a little sore from the fall.”

“What happened?” Pete asked.

“What, earlier when I almost fell to my death, or later when the hospital exploded?”

“The hospital!”

Mick looked me in the eye as he spoke. “The incinerator exploded apparently.”

“Anyone badly hurt?”

“The guy driving the ambulance is the only one with any serious injuries.”

“The nurse?” I asked.

“She’s fine, she took me to the examination room. Reggie, the driver, went off with the radio. Said he was going to throw it in the incinerator. Said it gave him the creeps. I swear I heard music coming from it as he walked away. That’s not possible is it?”

“Shit!” Pete said, “This is all my fault.”

“How can this be your fault, what’s going on? Was the radio a bomb or something? This isn’t an IRA issue is it? Do we need to talk to the Police?”

“No Mick, the Police couldn’t help with this.”

“Shh,” I said as I saw the nurse from this morning approach.

“You can take your friend home if you like, he’s fine. He’ll be better off at home than in this chaos.”

“How’s Reggie doing?” Mick asked.

“Reggie’s going to be fine!” she said, obviously relieved, “it looked worse that it actually is. His ankle is either sprained or broken, can’t tell till we get the results of the x-ray. There was a lot of blood from his head injury, but it’s not serious. Needed a couple of stitches, that’s all. He’s very lucky, the explosion must have thrown him a long way. Someone dragged him away from the flames. He’s in Catterick General until we know if his ankle needs surgery.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Mick said.

“Can we go and visit him?” I asked. I wanted to know what happened, he might have remembered something.

“Not today, pop in tomorrow if you want. Check with the hospital first though, if it’s just a sprain they’ll probably let him go home in the morning. We’re more worried about the other guy. We can’t find him.”
“What other guy?”

“Reggie kept mumbling about a young bloke in a leather jacket standing next to the incinerator. The firemen are looking for him now.”

 

Some where in the distance we heard music, weird music.

Dead of July is still available on Amazon for $0.99. I make take a stab at creating a Screen Play with my current short story, the one your reading on my blog….what do you think?

Tricks of Evil – Dark Angel – Haunting the Reverend

 

As soon as I walked into the kitchen of my childhood home I felt my dad’s presence. I even smelled him, his cigarettes, his aftershave, his hair creme; it was comforting and upsetting both at the same time. My mum seemed not to notice and busied herself with setting the table.

“Can I help”? I asked. She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “Your being here is the only help I need. I’ve missed you, I feel like I’ve lost my husband and my daughter.”

I hung my head, ashamed of my recent behaviour. “I’m sorry mum, I really am.”

She turned her back to me, I knew she was crying, “everyone deals with grief differently,” she said, making excuses for me.

Reverend Laybourn appeared as he walked slowly past the kitchen window. He didn’t look so good as he came in and sat down. My mum poured him some tea and offered him a piece of cake. “How could I refuse, it looks delicious.” He turned and faced me. “People come from far and wide to our church bake sale, in the hopes of getting one of your mum’s chocolate cakes. She has quite the reputation.”

The cake on Reverend Laybourn’s place was alive with maggots, dark chocolate-colored maggots. Was I the only person who saw them?

His face was covered with a film of perspiration. He mopped his brow. “Oh goodness, I hope I’m not coming down with something,” he said. My mum didn’t seem to notice his demeanor. She was just happy we were both there. After twenty minutes or so the Reverend stood up, he looked unsure on his feet, and steadied himself. A dark maggot tried to escape the corner of his mouth. My stomach lurched, surely I was hallucinating.

“I must go, other parishioners to talk to,” he said weakly.

“I’ll walk with you to the corner,” I told him, wondering if he had the strength to walk that far.

By the time we reached the garden gate, I thought he would faint, but he kept going. I knew he was praying silently because his lips were moving. When I knew my mum couldn’t hear my voice I said. “Are you alright, what happened in there? Your cake, it was full of maggots.”

Reverend Laybourn took a deep breath and talked as we continued to walk to the corner of the street. “No it was not, but something wanted us to believe it was. It took all of my strength and faith in God to eat it. I didn’t want to alarm your mother, but I don’t think I should visit her again at home, something doesn’t want me in her house.”

I looked into his face, some of the color had returned. “You look much better now. Remember when you visited my flat?”

“Yes, I do, you weren’t pleased to see me were you? I heard you slam the door when I walked out.”

“I didn’t slam the door, I was nowhere near it. Reverend, I really do think I have daemons.I think they will harm you if you try to help me.”

The reverend looked at me, a troubled expression on his face. “Lucy, you are troubled, I see a dark aura all around you. Its something I’ve never seen before, but I don’t believe it’s a daemon. I’m going to talk to Father Romsey about this, there are special prayers to help troubled people. This could be something you are mustering up.”

“I’ve been called crazy several times in my life, but I don’t think I’m the sort of crazy that can conjure up maggots. I saw them too remember?”

The reverend took my hands in his own “May God Protect you.” he said. “Lucy, I will talk to Father Romsey and then I will call you.”

“I don’t want to put more people at risk.”

“Part of my job is dealing with evil, it’s what I signed up for.” Reverend Laybourn hugged me and then hurried away. I was scared for him.

As I walked back along the road to my mum’s house it grew dark, it was still early afternoon, but a storm was coming. The shadows grew longer. The air was full of dampness, and carried a nasty smell, it was the smell of evil. May God help us all, I said to myself. I knew I had a battle ahead of me.

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My first novel ‘Dead of July’ is set in Dortmund, Germany. The year is 1984 and a young British Army wife fights a battle against Evil. Does she survive? Click on the link below and find out.

Dead of July

 

The ‘haunted’ Morello House

Morello house

Morello Car CrashI began reading about the Morello House on-line in the Philippine Star. The story is being turned into a movie. Of course I immediately became fascinated because ghosts and the supernatural always do that to me. They terrify me and fascinate me. I decided to share this story and the photo’s (courtesy of http://morellohouse.com/). Below is a brief summary of the house and its terrors.

A recent real estate listing describes a beautiful and secluded house that has languished on the market for decades. What the listing does not describe, however, is the supposed curse on the house – and the gruesome deaths that wiped out an entire family there nearly 30 years ago.

The house on 14 Woodlands Drive was once valued at over a million dollars and has since gone down to less than a quarter of that. The drop in price is no mystery to the locals. Because at least four people died in that house — an entire family, wiped out.

After her three children and her husband died, Angela Morello lived alone in the mansion for just a few years. I can only imagine the loneliness and the grief that filled those rooms and hallways — rooms and hallways once filled with light and the promise of a successful future.

An article in the local paper came out soon after Angela left the house and put it up for sale. A sense of doom seems to bother just about anyone with an opinion. Even a realtor in the area was quoted as saying, “More likely than not, no one will ever live here again.”

Over the decades, the Morello house has loomed darker and darker, as a source of mystery, fear, and death. It is exactly the kind of house that is an example of an “attractor” — a likely place to be haunted. I am building a case study around the Morello house, to examine the reality of the “Morello Curse,” the likelihood that it is haunted, and the possibility that there are more gruesome crimes hidden there than have been reported.

To read my humble ghost story, click on the link below. 

http://amzn.to/1aXh4Md

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Conversations with a ghost?

When my daughter was young, and I mean very young, she would wander around the house in the night. I have no idea why, but it would scare us to death. She is 27 now and I know if she reads this it will embarrass her, but she would have conversations with invisible people before she could even talk. Seriously!

The first time this happened we heard a noise downstairs and realised it was the childish giggles of a one year old. My husband and I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs wondering if someone else was there. Our baby girl was standing on a chair, looking out of the window and talking to the moon. She jumped up and down and down on the chair, unaware of our presence. She talked in child talk and then stopped as thought she was listening to someone talking back. Then she would giggle. We stood for a few minutes amazed as we listened to what seemed like her side of a conversation. When I scooped her in my arms, she didn’t object, and I tucked her back into bed, where she slept soundly for the rest of the night.

The next ‘night time’ conversation was a week or so later. I heard my baby girl get out of bed and ran to her room to stop her from clambering down the stairs again. I picked her up and put her into the middle of my bed, between my husband and I. If she tried to go downstairs she would have to crawl over one of us and we would wake up and stop her.

She didn’t try to crawl out of bed, but instead laid on her back, her arms animated as though she was conducting an orchestra. She proceeded to have a conversation with someone whilst looking at the ceiling. There was nothing there but shadows. I lay awake and listened to her childish giggles and baby talk for thirty minutes or so before she fell asleep. I wished I could hear the other side of the conversation, I would love to know who she was talking to. Who was making her giggle so much?

I wondered if she had inherited my gift, and the gift my grandmother had before me. We saw people who no one else could see, but it didn’t happen to me until I was five years old. My daughter was only one year old!

She vaguely remembered these incidents until she was about fifteen. There was one more occasion when she a freshman in high school. She came home from school sick. She lay on the sofa and remembers seeing a woman sitting in the corner of the room looking at her, maybe even watching over her until I got home.

If my daughter still has this gift, she no longer talks about it. Maybe it’s hard for her to come to terms with, it was for me too. When she is older she may open her mind again. I believe someone is watching over her. I hope so anyway.

You can purchase my two short stories from Amazon. They are based on paranormal experiences I had as a child, and then as a teenager. They are my first attempt to talk to the world about what happened to me. I am still learning how to put my stories together. Later this year my first novel ‘Dead of July’ will be released. This novel is being edited by a wonderful editor called Amy Eye and I believe with her help, it will be a great read. It is based on things that happened to me whilst living in Germany in 1982. It is a German ghost story.

 (Preview) Dead of July

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My two short stories can be purchased from the links below. 

Girl on the Beach (UK)

Girl on the Beach (US)

Guy at the Bar Amazon

Guy at the Bar Amazon UK

For regular updates Follow me on Facebook 

Ghosts in Japan

The Japanese survivors fear the spirits of the dead, and who can blame them? The Tsunami was a terrible devastating event that no one will ever fully recover from. I want to share the following reports with you.

Whole neighbourhoods full of people were killed by the Japanese tsunami. There are rumours of ghosts in Ishinomaki as the city struggles to come to terms with the awful tragedy.

One reconstruction project appears stalled because of fears the undead spirits of those who perished will bring bad luck.

“I heard people working to repair the store became sick because of ghosts,” Satoshi Abe, 64, said, gesturing to a half-repaired supermarket.

“People died everywhere, here and there. The city is full of such stories,” he said.

Workers involved in rebuilding are scared the spirits of the dead might bring them bad luck. There are many reports of ghost sightings from Ishinomaki city in Miyagi prefecture, home to nearly a fifth of all tsunami fatalities.

As ghost stories abound, fears are spreading. Cabbies aren’t plying to some areas fearing they’ll pick up spirits of the dead, while residents claim they’ve seen hordes of “people” run towards the hills as they would have while seeking higher ground when the tsunami struck on March 11, 2011. While psychologists try to grapple with such paranormal phenomena, some businesses are, however, reopening.
Japan is a very traditional society, but the Japanese have also pioneered some of the world’s most innovative advances in automation and gadgetry. It seems strange they should be beset by ghost fears, but therapists say such fears are often a side effect of natural calamities. For most of us, irrespective of faith, death is usually not easy to comprehend. Philosophers have tried over centuries to explain human mortality, but it gets that much harder to understand when a disaster of epic proportions strikes. As the patient Japanese try to recover, they might even see the ghosts positively, as part of a healing process. The rest of us can only wish them well.

 

We can only pray for the souls of those who lost their lives and hope they found peace.

 

 

My first Ghost

I don’t talk about it very often, I was only four years old. She was my cousin!

I had to stay with an aunt one night. My was a little eccentric, but she was fun. She would heat up the potato chips and serve the apple pie cold. She drank a little too much, but I think it was to kill the pain of her difficult life. She was lovely in her prime. I had seen photos of her and my mum when they were in their early twenties. shiny eyed girls, full of laughter.

I slept in a bed her grand-daughter used to sleep in, before she died of cancer. She died at the age of 8. I had only met her once, but liked her a lot. She was pale and thin, but enjoying every last moment of the life she knew was slipping away from her. 

I needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I slid off the big bed and went to the bathroom without putting switching on the light. The moon was shining in through the window so it wasn’t completely dark. 

I returned to the bedroom and was about to climb into bed, but someone was already there. I stood by the bed for a while, scared to move. 

The moon cast a pale light on the shape under the covers. I recognized her right away. It was the thin shape of Dorothy, my cousin. How could she be there, she had died earlier in the year. I wasn’t scared, I was just confused. Was I dreaming? I rubbed my eyes! I stood there for a while  just watching her. She looked peaceful, but she looked so pale.

I heard movement behind me and turned around. My aunt came and knelt down beside me with tears in her eyes. 

“You see her too don’t you” she said. I nodded in reply.

Dorothy turned her head and looked at us. She smiled and then slowly faded until she could no longer be seen. It was a chilling moment. 

My aunt hugged tightly and I followed her out of the room. I was not afraid, but I didn’t want to sleep in that bed again. I never did! From that moment I had a great respect for my aunt. There was sadness in her once shiny eyes, but there was also love. I wasn’t too sad when she eventually passed away, because I knew Dorothy was waiting for her.

To read my two short ‘Ghost Stories’ click on the links below:

Dead of July – the story continues!

Sheila is being tormented by a mischevious spirit. Who is he and why is he tormenting her? She knows he must be tied to the dangerous Russian man she recently crossed paths with. How far was he going to go? Did he just want to scare her? Could he really want to harm her?

He was looking for revenge.

Why was this Evil Spirit bothering me? What had I done? Was he something manifested by Viktor? Normally my visitations came without

warning, stayed with me briefly and then went on their way. I never had time to think about them, or be scared by them.  This was different! I really wished I had some contact information for Anna because I knew this was connected to her. As far as I knew Viktor was alive, but my current visitor certainly was not. It had to be connected to Viktor though, or conjured up by him. I didn’t know how to handle a real haunting, a nasty haunting. What should I do? What could I do? I couldn’t talk to anyone about this other than Les. People would think I was crazy.

I was working myself into a real frenzy, so I had to sit and rationalize things. Viktor was alive and he must be furious because he had lost his little slave. Now he had decided to make me suffer. He was terrorizing me. He had found where I lived, and therefore he could easily find out where I worked.  I couldn’t explain the happenings of the previous night. He could not have smashed the glasses in my kitchen, or been in my spare room, or could he? If this was Viktor, it seemed to me he was very sly, and determined to make me suffer.  I had to catch him red handed in one of his nasty little plots and show people what he was doing to me and to my van.  He was trying to scare and intimidate me, and so far he was succeeding. I didn’t think the German authorities would help me much, but I could sure as hell get the Military Police involved while I was on their property. I would stop and talk to someone this morning as I left camp. I was getting mad. The smell faded during the time I talked myself into being angry instead of scared. Strong Russian Cigarettes

By the time I pulled away, I was as mad as hell. This man who had ruined Anna’s life for so long was not going to do the same to me. I was no match for him, but I would put up a fight and involve who ever I could to help me. I was now getting unduly angry, almost like a switch had been turned on in my brain, ‘press for anger’. OK, deep breath’s, calm down!!!  By the time I drove onto the big parade ground I was feeling better. I felt a little unsettled though! My mood had swung from happy, to scared, to angry, to furious and back to normal again in the space of about fifteen minutes. Couldn’t blame this one on PMS, not that time of the month! I was so confused though, I had to believe this was Viktor, but how could he be haunting me if he wasn’t dead? It wasn’t yet noon, but I would have really loved a glass of wine.

I had barely stopped my van when a long line formed. The very first guy was a complete stranger to me, short, stocky and Russian. I fainted!

I hope you are enjoying the adventures of Sheila, the slightly ‘odd’ young girl who is pursued by adventures, visitations and promonitions. If you would like to read more check out my short stories from the links below. ‘Girl on the Beach’ is free to download from Amazon and ‘Guy at the Bar’ is $0.99.

Ghost Story – Strangled?

I haven’t forgotten about my German Ghost Story, just had a lot going on lately. I am still writing it though, and am pretty close to finishing. This is my longest story so far. I hope you are enjoying it. I enjoyed my years in Germany and maybe one day I will go back and visit. Below is installment number 16, I  hope you are enjoying this story. I hope to release this as a full-blown book at the end of this year

Great German Supermarkets

Tuesday was just a regular day at work, nothing out of the ordinary, no strange men who looked like Evil Cossacks lurking in the shadows. A few of us were bleary eyed because of World Cup Parties.

Yes all the British teams had been eliminated, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t get together and celebrate a good game of football. The World Cup was once every four years, you had to enjoy the moment, and believe me, all over Europe, everyone did!

Tuesday evening, I stopped off at the small supermarket on Borsigplatz to pick up some fresh fruit and vegetables The German Supermarkets were so much better than the NAAFI and were always stocked with fresh produce. If you tried hard to speak German, the staff responded in broken English, making life a little easier. It was a bit of a game with them, but a good way for me to learn German.  In the Borsigplatz area,  you could pick up food from all over the world, it was a joy to shop there. I wasn’t in a hurry as Les was at football practice and our friend Ken was dropping him back home afterwards.

I was wandering around the supermarket, finding new and different things to cook.  Cooking was, and still is a my passion, and I never tired of trying new recipes.  I wasn’t watching where I was going and walked smack bang into someone.

“Anna”

Anna looked at me and her eyes welled up with tears. She had an awful bruise around her eye now, her lip was swollen and it even looked like she had hand marks on her neck as though someone had tried to strangle her.

She just stood there trembling. I put my shopping down and looked her in the eye. Next I did that stupid thing that we Brits are renowned for, I spoke slowly and loudly, with lots of hand gestures.