Lingering Evil – Shadows

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“Who’s there?” I asked again.

Whispers in the darkness! Distorted shadows moved past the end of the bed and deepened in the corner of the room.

Les sat up sleepily. “What’s going on? Are you having one of your dreams?”

I sometimes had dreams that turned out to be premonitions, Les was used to them, but they were unpredictable.

“No, someone touched me!”

I was wide awake.

The Ticking of the Engine

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Glancing back at my car, I expected to see Viktor sitting in the passenger seat, an evil grin on his face, but there was nothing there. What I’d heard was most likely the ticking of the engine cooling down. Alfa Romeos ran hot, just like the Italians, and I drove it hard. There was nothing to see, but I felt a sudden chill, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Come on, let’s get you inside, you’re shaking. You need a hot, sweet cup of tea.”

I barely heard Shirley’s words, but allowed her to lead me up the stairs to our office.

*****************

Yes, I’m writing again. This is the follow-up to Dead of July which I published back in 2013. You can only write when the time is right!!!

Alone?

Dead of July (Small)

I sat on the bed in our empty flat and cried. I was five months pregnant and my emotions now affected the precious bundle I carried. When I cried it moved around inside me, letting me know it didn’t like that state of affairs. I hugged my stomach.

“Sorry, I’ll be brave, I just don’t want your daddy to be away for a month. I don’t want to be alone.”

But I’m not alone am I baby Thompson? I have you!

Then I heard a voice as plain as can be, “And you have me.” The voice had a strong Russian accent, it was cold and menacing.

“Stop, you can’t hurt me, you’re dead! Go away and leave me and my baby alone.”

This is an extract from a book I’m currently working on. It’s the sequel to Dead of July, my first novel. Ghosts on the Sand is a collection of  short stories. I love to write, and I’d love you to read, and enjoy my stories.

Dead of July

Ghosts on the Sand

A Valentine’s Day Surprise

valentine-baby

Valentine’s day 1984

Dortmund, Germany

“Congratulations, you’re going to be a mum.”
I was stunned!
“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes no doubt about it! You look surprised, you were planning a family weren’t you?”

“Yes, but I just didn’t expect it to happen this quickly?”
The young Army Captain’s piercing blue eyes focused on me from across the desk. “You are one of the lucky ones, some people try for years to get pregnant. You are happy about it right! You wanted this baby didn’t you?”

His handsome face looked concerned, “Do you want me to talk to your husband?”

“What, no, this is great news,” I replied, “I’m just not sure I know how to be a mum.”

The young Captain laughed out loud.

This is the sequel to my first novel Dead of July. It starts with good news, a baby, but soon things go bad and once again Sheila is fighting for her life and trying to preserve the life of her baby! 

Bohemian Ending!

Freddie

I saw Bohemian Rhapsody yesterday, it inspired my writing a little. I’m currently writing the sequel to “Dead of July”, already chose the ending “Lingering Evil”.

Lingering Evil starts in February of 1984, two years after my last book ended. Sheila still lives in Germany, but her life has been fun. No more encounters with Evil Russians’ dead, or alive, until she finds out she’s pregnant. Then things change a little.

Where does Bohemian Rhapsody come into this? Live Aid! I think the Live Aid concert in July 1985 is a good place to end this book!

Dead of July

Ghosts on the Sand

Dead of July – The Sequel

Dead of July (Small)

Dead of July was the book I had the most fun writing, I lost myself in the past. So much of this book is real. The eighties, the fun, the excitement! I was in my twenties in this book, a good time for anyone!
I finished Ghosts on the Sand a couple of weeks ago. Since publishing it on Amazon I’ve had some great feedback, particularly from the folks in Brompton on Swale, Catterick and Richmond, which is where most of the stories are set.
Now its time to go back to the eighties and write the sequel to Dead of July. There is still a lot to write. Sheila found out she was pregnant on Valentine’s Day of 1984. She was both happy and terrified at the thought of being a mum…I can say no more. Watch out for my next book, Lingering Evil, the sequel to Dead of July.

Both of my books are available on Amazon for a mere $0.99. I’m not famous (yet) so I can’t demand Stephen King type prices…but maybe one day!

Dead of July

Ghosts on the Sand

Thanks for stopping by!

River of Death!

riverside bombThey walked down the back lane in silence oblivious of the danger close by. An unstable deadly bomb was being built by a man with an unstable deadly mind. He talked quietly as he worked. “I’ll get the bastards who killed you. I’ll get them, and their friends. They’ll be sorry.”

****************

“How dangerous is Colleen’s brother?” Lindsay asked.

“I don’t know. He was all right until his sister was killed. Now he’s lost all reason. John’s suffering too, but his grief is private and not vengeful. I hope John finds Patrick and takes him back to Ireland.”

“Michael, Patrick killed my friends didn’t he. He made the car bomb that blew up the disco!”

“I don’t know for sure. John and I followed him to a pub in Richmond that night. He said he was going to the club. He was drunk and sad. He didn’t make much sense, but we thought the worst that would happen was he’d start a fight. We planned to meet him and go with him, just to keep him out of trouble, but he got away from us. We arrived just a the shit hit the fan and the car outside exploded.”

“Did you see Patrick at the fire? Was he there?”

“No, that’s why I can’t talk to the cops yet. I don’t want them to arrest him. If they do he’ll never get away because all of the evidence points at him. What if it wasn’t him?”

“I know you want to believe he isn’t responsible, but who else could it be?”

“Colleen!” Michael said quietly.

“Oh come on, you don’t really believe that. Colleen is a restless spirit. She’s a figment of our troubled minds.”

“Lindsay, you saw her at the window. You’ve heard her voice.”

“Yes, but ghosts can’t make bombs!”

“Quiet! Did you hear that?”

Lindsay and Michael stood still and listened.

“Its John.” Michael said. He ran towards the sound of John’s voice. Lindsay followed reluctantly. As she ran, she heard another loud angry voice. There was a loud splash and then silence.

Lindsay froze, something was wrong. She turned and came face to face with her dead friend. Mel was no longer burned and disfigured, but the vibrant happy young girl that Lindsay had grown up with.

“Mel?”

The shadowy figure in front of her smiled and disappeared.

“MEL!” Dammit, I’m seeing things.

Lindsay set off after Michael again, but didn’t get far. There was an almighty explosion.  The ground shook, knocking off her feet, throwing her backwards into the old stone wall. She bounced off it like a rag doll, banging her head as she was flung precariously towards the river Swale. Lindsay grabbed at trees and clumps of grass to stop herself from falling into the water and finally made contact with a low hanging branch. She clung on for dear life, her toes dangling just above the river. Branches and leaves hurtled past her like missiles. Helpless and afraid, Lindsay clung to the branch and prayed.

Dead of July – Amazon – My first novel “Dead of July” was released in December 2013 and is available for $0.99 on Amazon. Yes, it’s a bargain, but I’m a relatively unknown writer and would like everyone to get to know me. I’d love your feedback. 

Preview – Dead of July

 

 

Vengeful Dead – An Irish Tale

“So why are you telling me this and not the Police? This man may be responsible for the death of over a hundred people for Christ’s sake. He’s a bloody murdering terrorist.”

“I don’t know that for sure. I need to talk to John, but he won’t talk to me anymore, doesn’t want to get me involved. He’s still grieving his wife.”

“I can understand that, but what about his kids? He should at least tell the Police what he knows and let them take over. They’ve already lost their mother. They need their father now.” Lindsay picked up her glass of whiskey and emptied it in one gulp. She needed warming up on the inside. Michael did the same.

“Another?” he asked.

“Yes, and make it a double.”

Michael went to the bar and Lindsay pulled her chair closer to the fire to ward off the chill she felt in her bones. There was movement outside the big bay window that looked out onto the street. When she turned her head to look, two faces looked back at her. A man she didn’t recognize and the face that had become familiar to her as Colleen, the face of a ghost. I thought ghosts only appeared at night. This isn’t fair. Lindsay ran outside as quickly as she could, knowing full well Colleen wouldn’t be there, but she needed to talk to the stranger. Was this Michael’s brother? Or was it Patrick, Colleen’s brother. Someone had to be the voice of reason and she felt that was her role, but she was too late. The street was deserted. She walked back inside just Michael put two more glasses of whiskey on the table.

“What was that all about?” he asked

Lindsay downed her second whiskey in one gulp.

“Your brother John, is he kind of heavy-set with dark curly hair?”

“No, he shaves his head, and he’s skinny like me. Why?”

“I just saw two faces at the window, Colleen and a heavy-set man, probably mid thirties, curly dark hair.”

“Colleen’s brother, dammit. I have to find John.”

“You’re concerned about the living, but not the least perturbed about the dead Irish woman?”

“She can’t hurt us, she can scare us to be sure, but that’s all. Patrick can hurt us, and there’s a good chance he will.”

“Do you really think he could have started the fire?”

“In his mind Colleen was killed because of the British Army being in Belfast. He’s over here to make trouble for them in their own country. He wants revenge.”

“His sister was caught in the crossfire though, no one was to blame.”

“In his mind the British Army are to blame.”

“Where are the boys, John’s boys? Who is looking after them?”

“Colleen’s ma, she moved to Dublin to be away from danger. The boys are safe. John lives there too, but when the Queens Regiment moved back from Ireland Patrick disappeared and John knew it meant trouble. He followed the regiment hoping to catch Patrick before anything happened. Neither of us expected anything like the fire that killed your friends. Patrick’s a good man, but his sister’s death tipped him over the edge. He drinks too much and…”

Michael never finished his sentence. A brick hurtled through the window and bounced off the table, landing in the middle of the room. Everyone in the bar ran. In the seventies, near an army camp, if something was thrown through a window it was usually exploded.

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When I start writing I don’t really know where my story is taking me. It’s an adventure, an escape, and I enjoy every minute. Try my novel Dead of July. It’s set in Dortmund in the early eighties and follows the adventures of a young Army wife and the trouble she managed to get into. It almost killed her. 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

 

Let the Dead stay Dead!

fire-garden-wheelbarrow“Okay stop, stop now!” Lindsay yanked her hand out of Michael’s grasp and stood still. “What the hells going on? Who’s following you? Who was looking over my shoulder? I saw a face in the river. I saw someone running away on the other side of the river too.”

“Not now! Come on, I don’t want to be alone down here. Do you have café in the village, or a pub? I think we need people around us.”

“No café, I don’t want to go to the pub looking like this. I have no makeup on.”

“Lindsay, makeup should be the last thing on your mind right now. Come on, lets got get a drink. Do you know the people in the pub?”

“Yes of course I do, I live in a village, and everyone knows everyone else.”

“Good, I think you need to keep friends around you.”

Lindsay smelled burning. It was strong. She looked around for signs of danger. OK it’s my imagination, but it wasn’t her imagination, smoke billowed from the garden of one of the cottages that backed onto the lane. She couldn’t handle anymore fires.

“Hi Lindsay!” It was Mr. Hodgson. He was burning dead branches.

“Hi!” Lindsay replied, forcing a smile. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. Through the smoke she saw the figure of her dead friend. Mel raised her arm in greeting; flesh sloughing off it and sliding into the fire. Lindsay bent double, throwing up immediately. She almost collapsed into the pool of steaming puke. Michael grabbed her arm, steadying her before she fell. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Lindsay pointed towards the fire, “Over there, by the fire, what do you see.”

Before he had time to answer she heard footsteps as another figure approached, “Oh God no.” Lindsay closed her eyes, terrified it was her dead friend.

“Lindsay love, are you alright, do you want me to call someone?” It was Mr. Hodgson, “You’re awfully pale, do you want to come inside and sit down a minute?”

She sighed with relief, “No, I’ll be alright. Something I ate I think,” Lindsay looked back at the smoke in the garden, but that’s all she saw, just smoke! I’m going crazy!

“I’ll make sure she gets home alright,” Michael said.

“What’s your name young man, I don’t think I’ve seen you before?”

“I’m Michael, a friend of Lindsay’s, I’ll watch out for her.”

Lindsay smiled weakly, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Alright then, say hi to your mam and dad, they get back from France today don’t they?”

“Yes, later tonight”

“And Lindsay, I’m so sorry about your friends, it was horrible. You’re very lucky to be alive. Awful tragedy. Any idea what started the fire yet?

Lindsay shook her head.

“Well if you need anything let me know. I’ll let this young man take care of you. Do I detect and Irish accent Michael?”

“Yes sir, I’m from Dublin, I’m visiting family in Richmond.” Michael lied. “I met Lindsay the night of the fire. I was just checking in on her.”

“Oh, I thought you had a softer accent, not harsh like Belfast. Awful business with the IRA isn’t it! Sad that so many people are dying and blaming religion. I wonder if it’ll ever be sorted out.”

“I hope so sir. You’re right, too many people dying, British and Irish alike.” A cool breeze chilled everyone as Michael spoke. Lindsay shivered and Mr. Hodgson pulled his jacket closed.

Michael run away, these non-believers will get you killed. Come home! Where’s Johnny?

“Well take care of Lindsay, and yourself.” Mr. Hodgson turned and went back to his fire.

“What was that all about?”

“I’m going fucking crazy, that’s what that was all about. I saw Mel at the other side of the fire. Her skin was smoking and dropping off her body. Now I’m hearing voices. I’m totally losing it.”

“Come on, we need to talk. Maybe you should go home first and wash your face, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have seen a bloody ghost, and it’s not the first time. I truly wish I were dead. I can’t handle this much longer.”

I just can’t stop writing.  Dead of Julymy first novel is available on Amazon and will soon be joined by two short stories. 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson