Cottage in the Woods

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Sam sat in the pub alone, his beer didn’t taste the same without conversation. He looked at his watch. Dirk was thirty minutes late, never been late before.

Lily, the waitress, came over with a menu. “Eating alone today Sam?”

“No, I’m waiting for Dirk, not sure where he is, he’s never late.”

“Oh you missed him, he was here earlier, dressed up special he was. I asked him if he was going on a date or something. He cleans up well.”

“What time was he here?”

“A little after one I think”

“Did he say where he was going?” Sam asked.

“No, I didn’t ask either, we were really busy. Didn’t eat, just had a beer and a Whiskey chaser. Seemed in a good mood, really chirpy he was. I’d best be getting on, are you ready to order?”

Sam shook his head, “No Lily, I’m not hungry anymore, thanks though.”

Sam sat for a while and thought about what Lily said. He’d know if Dirk was sweet on someone, the old fool couldn’t keep a secret, or so he thought. He was wrong though, Dirk did have a secret. Where had he gone? Then it dawned on him! 

Sweet Jesus he’s gone to see the old hag in the woods, he wants to be young again!

He finished his pint in one gulp and hurried out of the pub. He took the path by the river towards the old woods. Dark clouds gathered, and the first drops of rain fell as Sam took the path that forked left, away from the river. The trees seemed closer together than normal and very little light penetrated their thick branches. Day light turned to darkness in just a few short steps. Sam shivered.

Sammie, come on, hurry. I’m waiting for you Sammie!

“Sadie, is that you.”

He knew it couldn’t be, she was long dead, but he heard her voice clearly.

“I’m coming.”

He quickened his pace and walked deeper into the woods, it was quiet, too quiet. Sam didn’t notice though, Sadie’s voice echoed in his head. It was enticing. His heart ached, he’s missed her so much.

He aroma of a log fire tickled his nostrils. The smell made him nostalgic. They’d spent their honeymoon in a cabin in the New Forest. A November wedding had meant it was cold and they’d snuggled together by the log fire, young and in love. A lifetime ago.

Sammie, I’m cold, come and keep me warm!

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

If you like my blogs, support a budding artist by watching out for my upcoming book, which is a compilation of short stories and will be available soon on Amazon. Watch out for  “Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales”

My first book is available on Amazon by clicking on the following link.

Dead of July – Amazon

 

 

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Who’s out there?

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He looked into my eyes, waiting for an answer. What do I tell him? 

“Come on we need to clean these scratches. Are you going to tell me how you got them?”

I daren’t

I followed him to the sink and stood silently while he dabbed my wounds with warm water. “So what happened, I saw you out there in the snow. Not exactly the kind of day to go for a walk. Did you fall?”

“Yes, at the end of the driveway. I heard a noise behind me and it made me jump. Lost my balance!” I said, relieved he’d put the idea of falling in my head. It wasn’t a lie. I did fall.

“What startled you?”

“It was snow falling off a tree branch, silly really, but I was lost in my thoughts.”

“You need to start paying attention or you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I know, I have another book on my brain though. I was working out the plot in my head, walking helps me think.”

Les laughed. “Your mind is always somewhere else. Did you check the mail?”

“No, I didn’t”

“OK, I’ll do it now.”

I watched him walk along the driveway, wishing I dare tell him what really happened, but I couldn’t. He’d think I was imagining it, getting lost in one of my own plots. Sometimes I wondered if I was! 

Standing on the porch I breathed deeply, inhaling the cold crisp air. Snow fell from the roof, hitting the ground in front of me, I didn’t jump this time. 

Les walked back along the driveway, engrossed in the letters he was carrying, not noticing the snow whipping up behind him even though there was no wind. I held my breath as I watched the glistening mass take shape. It looked like a child, but disappeared before he reached the porch.

“Whats up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Les said as he kicked the snow off his boots. 

If only he knew!

Dead or Alive – she’s mine!

headlight in the darknessThe temperature dropped. Icy fingers tightened their grip on my heart.

“You’ll never have her. You couldn’t have her in life and she’s not yours in death. She was promised to me. She’s mine.”

Surely they’re not talking about me! I strained my eyes trying to see through the darkness. It was thick and dense, a black fog.

“You killed her!” The voice was harsh, evil.

“No, you did, you killed her when you messed with my brakes. You ended her life.” This voice was full of sadness and love.”

“You should have died alone. You took what was mine.” The evil voice boomed through the darkness. It scared me.

“Mala wasn’t a possession. She didn’t love you.” It was almost a whisper.

The darkness was penetrated by the sound of a horn. It was loud. Rushing towards me.

A single beam of light pierced the darkness from another direction.

A truck roared towards the crossroads. Oh God, slow down, won’t someone slow down. Screeching brakes and burning rubber filled the air.

The truck tried to stop.

The motorcycle swerved.

For a fleeting moment I saw the face of the beautiful gypsy girl riding behind the smoking man. She closed her eyes, and hugged him tight.

Her lips moved, “I love you.” I wondered if he heard.

The impact was deadly.

Then there was silence.

“Why am I here?”

The sound of my voice hung in the darkness.

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.

Get Rid of Him … Rock On… with the DEAD!

Richmond at nightWe finished our drinks and walked back to my flat are in arm. Pete was easy to be around. I enjoyed his company even more after we stopped dating.

“Do you want a cup of coffee or anything?” I asked.

“No thanks! I may jump in the bath though, I still feel grimy from work, want to join me?”

I didn’t answer, just threw a clean towel at him, and a robe he’d left here over a year ago.

I opened the window in my bedroom, enjoying the cool breeze. It was quiet outside, the rides and their music, had to shut down at then o clock during the week. They made up for it on Friday and Saturday, when the little market town rock and rolled until midnight. I made myself a cup of Horlicks, I needed to sleep and it usually helped.

Pete emerged from the bathroom in a halo of steam, smelling fresh and looking relaxed.

“I think you’ve lost weight, that robe was much more snug last time you wore it.”

His face beamed at the compliment. “You’re the only person who’s noticed, I’ve started running, and I work out.”

He made to open his robe, “want a closer look?” he asked hopefully.

I turned my head and held up my hand. “Stop now!” In truth I was tempted to look. I’d always have a soft spot for Pete. I think all his ex girlfriends would (and there were a lot of them) he was that kind of guy.

He looked at the sofa. “How about you let me in your bed? I promise I won’t touch you. Well maybe a cuddle, but the sofa is too short, I’ll never sleep on it.”

“OK, you can sleep with me, no cuddles though, and no wandering hands. Please put something on, I don’t want to wake up and see you naked! I think there is still some of your underwear in the top drawer; I never got around to………”

I never finished my sentence. The bedroom door slammed shut and I heard what sounded like laughter.

“What the heck?” Pete looked alarmed.

“I opened the bedroom window, I’m sure it’s just the wind.”

“Oh and the wind has developed a laugh now has it?”

We walked together towards the bedroom door and I stood back while Pete opened it and went in.

“It’s safe,” he said putting the light on.

“Why wouldn’t it be, its my bedroom, I’m on the second floor, if anyone came in here they’d have to walk through the living room and I didn’t see anyone, did you?”

“You told me you were being seduced by a ghost….”he continued talking, but I wasn’t listening. I was mesmerized by the music wafting through the window.

The darkening streets outside were beckoning me.

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, rock and roll, rock on

And where do we go from here
Which is the way that’s clear

Get rid of him…tonight should be ours………….Rock on! Lets Rock On!

Check out my other blog Travel Tales and Mishaps.

Also take a look at the reviews of my first novel on Amazon Dead of July.

I Heard it through the GRAPEVINE of my fantasies! Where are you bad boy?

BadboyIt took a lot of make-up to fix my face for work that day. Dark circles hung under my puffy eyes. That was one hell of a nightmare, but it wasn’t really a nightmare, nothing bad happened. It was a vivid dream. The bad boy from the car park and the pub triggered my imagination. I was fantasizing about him. Wait a minute; there was no bad boy! 

I bet you’re wonderin’ how I knew
‘Bout your plans to make me blue
With some other guy you knew before
Between the two of us guys
You know I loved you more
It took me by surprise I must say
When I found out yesterday
Don’t you know that I heard it through the grapevine
Not much longer would you be mine
Oh I heard it through the grapevine
Oh I’m just about to lose my mind

I started singing along to Marvin Gay and turned the radio up, maybe it would erase the images of my fantasy man. I liked the images that played in my head, but they were way too strong. I needed a dose of reality!

The DJ on the radio station chirped in, “yes, it’s that time of year again folks, the fair is on its way to Richmond. Candy floss, burgers, and the brutality of the waltzers to eject those divine, but bad treats from your stomach. Good times!”

I smiled; I loved the fair when it came to Richmond. The older locals hated the noise it brought, along with diesel fumes and food, but it brought money to the town so they tolerated it. Feeling a little better I grabbed my bag and set off to work. It was a good morning to walk. No frost this morning, just a slight mist hanging over the town. Once that burned off it would be a beautiful day.

Misty Richmond

I had the office to myself. Cindy had an early appointment and there was still no sign of Jan. I made myself a second cup of coffee, and while the computer booted up, gazed out of the window and down to the car park. That’s where it all began, that’s where I first saw you smoking man. Are you real?

Cigarette smoke tantalized my nostrils. I turned around quickly, almost spilling my coffee.

No one was in the room but me.

Somewhere a motorbike fired up!

I love Saturday mornings, its my time. I enjoy a second cappuccino as I blog. Loving my bad boy story. It brings back memories of my teenage years in Brompton on Swale and Richmond, North Yorkshire. Of course this is all fiction…or is it?

Give my first novel Dead of July a try. Available on Amazon for a mere $0.99. If you love it, let me know. If you don’t love it, let me know why.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Hey Did You Rock and Roll? Rock On!

The smoke ring faded and disappeared. Had it really been there?

“Come on let’s get on with those reports, it’s going to be a long day,” Cindy said, “I’m not best pleased with Jan taking the day off. Can you work late if I need you to?”

“Sure, I could do with the extra money.”

“I bet you could, you’re off to Rimini again this year aren’t you?”

I breathed deeply and smiled, “Yes, sunshine and sand for two weeks. I can’t wait.”

“You’re obsessed with Italy!” Cindy said shaking her head.

“Yup, I think I must have been Italian in a previous life.”

I sat at my desk and began thumbing through computer printouts, the smoking man was soon forgotten.The day passed slowly, but by six thirty we were done.

“Do you want to join George and I in the Black Lion? Can’t be bothered to cook tonight so we’re going to grab a bite there?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“No, I wouldn’t have asked if I did. It’s my treat too, you worked hard today, you earned it.”

The Black Lion was only a five-minute walk across the cobbled streets.

George was waiting for us at a table by the fire. It was cozy. He ordered gin and tonics for Cindy and I, and another half of bitter for himself.

“Not a bad way to end a Monday is it?” he said.

“No, it’s not. Wish it was Friday though. I’m going to put some music on the jukebox. Be back in a minute.”

I fed some money into the machine and thumbed through the tunes, picking out my favorites, David Bowie, The Kinks, Elton John, what else? That’s when the jukebox came to life and selected the fourth song for me. I was about to complain to the barman, but something caught my eye. I saw a face reflected in the mirror behind the bar. A handsome face, and it was smiling at me. Tantalizing eyes were framed by jet black wavy hair, a strand of which fell across his forehead. He wore a white tee-shirt and a crooked grin. I saw you this morning in the park. I could barely breathe, so powerful was his presence. That’s when the music started, a song I’d never heard before, a song I never wanted to stop.

Love bringing music into my stories, it sets the atmosphere. I think I’m going to fall in love with this guy, but who is he and where did he come from?

Check out my first novel Dead of July which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

The Smoking Man

I saw him first on a Monday morning. Why I paid attention to him I don’t know, well maybe I do. A striking figure, he sat on a bench the rose garden  smoking a cigarette. He wore a black leather jacket, open at the front. It was a cold morning in North Yorkshire. Spring hadn’t quite turned into summer and a slight frost glistened on the grass. It was much too cold to sit outside and smoke.

I hurried into the office, my breath making clouds in the cold air.

“Morning sunshine, I just put a cup of coffee on your desk” my bosses husband greeted me as he left to make his rent collecting rounds for the day.

“Morning, thanks, mind how you go,” I answered as the door shut behind him.

My boss, Cindy, met me in the door way of our office. “I’m going up to finance, I’ll be back in half an hour or so, Jan isn’t coming in. Tummy bug, or too much brandy over the weekend, see you in a bit.”

I grabbed my coffee and walked over to the window, enjoying the view of the hills and greenery that surrounded the sleepy little market town. I looked down to the park, a place I often sat in the summer, enjoying a sandwich from the local bakery. A thin wisp of smoke floated in the air. I’d forgotten about the smoking man.

The door opened behind me and Cindy appeared. “Hi, seems everyone’s late this morning, I’ll grab another coffee and try again in half an hour. What are you looking at?”

I turned back to the window “There’s a bloke sitting out there chain-smoking. He must be freezing.”

Cindy followed my gaze. “I don’t see anyone.”

I looked again. “He was there a minute ago.” I put my cup down and walked closer to the window, my breath clouding the glass. Sure enough the smoking man was gone, but not completely. A perfect smoke ring hovered above the bench, the only evidence he’d ever been there.

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Yes, another story has escaped my tormented brain, where’s this one going? if you know the answer you’re better than me. My stories enter my head in installments…..you could say I have episodes! Keep following, it may be a fun ride. Check out my first novel on Amazon. Bargain at $0.99. When I’m famous I’ll charge much more. Stephen King started cheap too. I write for fun, any profit I make is a bonus. 

Dead of July

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Death in the Shadows

ColleenMichael gently backed Lindsay away from the door before closing it. He held her tightly until the tears subsided. It took a while. Eventually, when she was calm, Michael pulled away and gently lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. Lindsay wouldn’t look at him.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s alright, I guess I came just at the right time. You needed someone.”

Lindsay took a deep breath and let Michael go.

“I’m not sure if there will ever be a right time again.”

Michael led her to the sofa and sat down next to her taking both of her hands in his.

“Living through something like this isn’t easy. Believe me, I know.”

“I lost all of my friends,” she whispered, “that’s bad, but there are other things happening. It’s getting worse, much worse. I think the dead are coming back for me!”

She sobbed again, her whole body shaking. “Maybe it’s a good thing. Why should I be the only one left alive?”

Michael put his arm around her “Come on now, you are alive, and you should be grateful.”

“Michael I think I’m losing my mind. I keep dreaming about my best friend Mel, and when I wake up the dream lingers, I see her. Her awful burned face haunts me. I saw her in the interview room at the police station.”

“It’s stress and nerves. You feel guilty because you survived. It’ll pass.”

“No, I don’t think it will.”

“Lindsay, it will, I’m sure. Let me tell you something about my brother, he….”

“I don’t want to hear about your goddamn brother right now. I’m scared and I haven’t finished,” she spat the words out and Michael jumped, alarmed at her ferocity.

Lindsay picked up the pad from the floor and dropped it on his lap.

“Barbara, the young police woman, told me to write down my fears and emotions because I refused to see a shrink. Go on, read them.”

“Okay, this seems reasonable, I’ve heard of people doing this before, it usually helps.”

“Michael read the last line.”

HELP ME

“You’re asking for help.”

“I didn’t write that.”

“Who did?”

“I had another visitor, a young woman with an Irish accent.”

“What, just now, before I came? Who was she?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know, I never saw her face, only heard her voice.”

“What?”

The room grew colder again and the shadows deepened.

The whispering began, it surrounded them “Michael, Michael, Michael. I see you……Michael where is he, where’s your brother. Where’s John, where’s my Johnny boy?”

Michael froze.

“Colleen?”

Try my novel Dead of July. Available as an ebook or paperback on Amazon.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson