Death Memory

522891-murder”Why does it feel warm?”

She undid the popper that kept the camera case closed. The clicking had stopped, but camera vibrated. It was processing something. Barbara shuddered.

“I don’t like the way it feels, it feels warm alive.”

“Here, give it to me,” Lucy said, “this whole thing might be some sort of joke, lets see what on its memory.”

Barbara looked around uncomfortably; they were surrounded by darkness and silence. It wasn’t a good place to be at night. Lucy gasped.

“Oh sweet Jesus. Oh dear God.”

“What is it?”

Lucy turned stood next to her friend and showed her the secrets captured in the camera’s memory. Barbara turned around and hung on to the branch of a tree while she threw up.

Advertisements

Evil Dead!

evil faceThe silence didn’t last long. A strong wind blew. It was icy cold. A weak, fading glow danced in the darkness. The tinkling bells grew silent. I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what!

“Lucky Heather?”

The voice was close to my ear. I turned quickly, expecting to see another restless spirit, but instead I came face-to-face with the old Gypsy I’d seen a couple of days earlier. I touched her wrinkled cheek. It was warm. She was real. She grinned a toothless grin and pushed a sprig of purple heather into my hand. My skin tingled at its touch. I remembered the heather that filled my living room a few days earlier.

Was she trying to help me?

Looking into her eyes, I saw strength, and wisdom. I looked back at the fading glow of the young gypsy girl and my heart began to ache.

“Don’t go!” I pleaded in a voice that didn’t sound like mine.

The smoking man appeared behind her, reaching out his arms, trying to hold her, but she was barely visible.

Laughter bubbled from behind me. It was nasty and malevolent. I turned around almost losing my balance, and looked upon pure evil, in the form of a man. Horns were all he needed to make him look like the devil itself. I knew he was long dead, I could see it in his eyes, but he looked strong. The smirk on his face was terrifying.

“You can’t help them, they’re my playthings.”

I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn’t open.

His laughter surrounded me.

“Every year they suffer. It’s what they deserve. He took her from me. He took her from the Romany way of life. Stole her. Common thief that he is.” He spat on the ground. The grass died around him and the air turned putrid. “I’m going to take you too. Every year I add a wonton creature like yourself to my collection. Young girls who fall under his spell, all too stupid to resist his pathetic charms. I get them all in the end.”

There was movement behind him. A dozen or more young girls huddled together. Some naked, all unhappy! Snatched from life and made to suffer by this evil, restless spirit. I didn’t want to be one of them.

“Why do you want me? Let me go. What good can I do?” I whispered, trying to sound brave.

“I don’t want you, I didn’t want any of these pathetic creatures,” as he spoke he turned around. They all cowered away from him. Could he still hurt them in death?

“I want her! I’ll give them all to him, in exchange for her. ”

I looked back at the fading light that was the beautiful young gypsy girl. I could barely see her now.

Another voice came from the darkness. I’d forgotten about the old woman.

“She’ll never be yours Luca. She didn’t love you.”

Her voice brought a look of fury to the ugly face. A bird fell to the ground at his feet.

“I didn’t want her love. I wanted her body! Love is nothing. I needed her beside me to bear my children.” His voice boomed like thunder. He smiled an awful smile and licked his lips, “I wanted to play with her a little too.”

“People like you should never be allowed to breed. If you’d given her a child it would have died in her womb.” The old girl cackled. Her voice was strong.

“I’d have torn it from her body before that happened.”

More birds fell to the ground behind him. I could smell fire. Maybe it was the fires of Hell. Somewhere close by a tree fell smoldering to the ground.

The heather I held tightly in my hand became so warm I wanted to drop it.

A voice from deep within my head whispered to me.

Make him angry now. Distract him! Let Mala escape. Let him focus his anger on you and me.

“I’m scared.” I answered. “He’ll kill me!”

A pain ripped through my skull.

“Be quiet you old Hag, I hear you”

 

Dark Angel – The Chant

Indian ChantWhen Jeff got back from the hospital he found me sitting on the sofa in the darkness, still looking at the bottle of wine.

“You don’t like to drink alone then?” he asked.

“I did drink alone, this is the second bottle,” I said.

He came and sat down beside me, and put his arms around me, hugging me gently as though I might break. “None of this is your fault.”

“How can you say that?” I sobbed. “I was spared, while a man was allowed to die. My dad is dead. Reverend Laybourn just wanted to help me and now he’s in hospital. He’s still alive isn’t he? Please tell me he’s still alive.”

“Yes he’s going to be fine; he has God on his side remember. He’s shaken, and has a fractured wrist from his fall, but he’ll live to preach another day.”

“He looked awful when you went down to him. I was sure he was going to die.”

“He was in shock, that’s all. I should have stayed here with you instead of going to the hospital. You look worse than the Reverend.”

Jeff got a glass and poured himself some wine.

“She visited me while you were gone, she’s not finished with me yet, I’m scared. What can I do? How can I end this? Who is she going to turn on next? It could be you, it could be my mum. I’m the one that should be suffering, no one else.”

“Lucy, you are suffering. Look at you. Don’t give up, we need to stop this. If we let her win, she’ll move on to someone else and this awful nightmare will start all over again. More people will suffer. She needs to be stopped.”

The room temperature dropped again.

“Try and stop me if you dare. You are weak pathetic humans who pray to a weak ineffective god. You have no chance. I am everything, I am everywhere. I toy with you because I can, because I want to. It pleasures me. When I’m done with you I’ll cast you aside and you’ll beg me to take you back.”

I felt her hands on me again. She touched and prodded as though she were looking for something. I felt coldness surround my heart.

“Ahhhhh, it still beats, it beats for me.” she hissed.

There was pressure on my chest, and then, to my horror, I felt her lips on mine and her breath in my mouth.

“Jeff!” I screamed. “Help me.”

My glass exploded as the water that filled it turned to ice. Cold fingers grasped my ankles and I was pulled to the floor. Jeff grabbed me around the waist, pulling me back to him as began to chant  a prayer I’d never heard in a language I didn’t recognize.

“What is that noise? Stop! It pains my ears.”

The grip on my ankles was released briefly, and then got tighter.

“Your stupid Native American spells don’t hurt me. They won’t help you neither.”

Jeff kept hold of me and continued to chant. I heard my name mixed in with words that had no meaning. The grip on my ankles eased slightly and I used my elbows to lever myself off the floor and back onto the sofa, kicking hard at the invisible force that held me. The room grew warmer.

“I’m not done yet, I’ll be back when you don’t expect me. You owe me girl, and I’m going to collect. I’ll take you slowly. When you have suffered more than you ever thought you could, I’ll take you for my own. I’ll enjoy you.”

There was a deep sigh and then silence. Jeff was pale and exhausted. I put my arms around him.

“You saved my life.” I told him.

He slumped in my arms, unable to speak. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but it had sapped his energy.

I held him close and picked up the glass of wine he’d been drinking. I finished it in one gulp.

I owed my life to this man. I hope he didn’t have to pay with his own.

 

Click link below if you would like to read my first full length novel. It was fun to write and I’ve been told its fun to read. Give it a try.

Dead of July – A German Ghost Story 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

 

 

A single black feather – Dark Angel

7513509-black-feather

I can’t remember the last time my mum had slapped me, but it got my attention. I looked at her tearful scared face. She looked old. She’d aged since my dad died. I wanted to say sorry, but I couldn’t speak. My head hurt, but it didn’t hurt as badly as my heart.

“I’m going into church now,” she said “If you aren’t joining me, you can wait in the car.” she handed me the keys. Her hands were shaking. “What’s wrong with you Lucy?” she asked. Then she turned her back on me and walked away.

I leaned against the wall, exhausted, not knowing what to do. The church gate behind me creaked and I stepped to one side, making room for who ever wanted to pass. A hand touched my arm and I looked around to see a young man standing next to me. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember his name. “Lucy, it’s me, Jeff.”

“Jeff? I’m sorry, have we met before?” I asked.

He laughed, “You know me as Bones.”

I looked closely. “Bones, it is you. You’ve changed. You had long hair and a shaggy beard. You’ve cleaned up.” Bones used to wander the roads alone. He’d smoke pot and then take bones from a pouch he carried on his belt and throw them on the ground, claiming he saw the future from the way they landed. My mum always said he was crazy. I knew he wasn’t. He was just a gentle lost soul. He smiled at me and pulled a tattered leather pouch from his jacked pocket. “Yes, I still have them,” he said as he guided me along the path and into the church. “Sorry to hear about your dad. Come on, your mum needs you.”

Was I dreaming? I was dazed and not totally aware of my surroundings. Allowing Bones (couldn’t think of him as Jeff) to support me, I walked to the back of the church, hearing heads turn as I passed by the villagers (or was I imagining it?), nothing felt real. The congregation was singing Onward Christian Soldiers. Up in the rafters, almost hidden in the shadows, sat a dark shape with wings. It was watching me hungrily. Did Bones see it too? He held onto my arm. “You’re safe here. I’m going to take care of you.”

“Do you always come to church?” I asked him.

“No, only when someone calls me. I heard your call last night.”

“What?”

The dark shadow nestling on the wooden beams moved, it was right above me now. A dark feather fluttered to the ground in front of me. I closed my eyes in silent prayer.

One day this story may make its way into a book. My current book Dead of July is available on Amazon. Give it a try, I’d love to hear your comments. 

Dead of July

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Riders on the Storm

DSC00612It was a shitty Monday at work. Chaotic and unpleasant. Annie stopped off at the supermarket on the way home to get a lottery ticket and a couple of pieces of fried chicken for dinner. Fried chicken was her comfort food.

A storm rolled in as she parked in her garage. The clouds boiled in the darkening sky.

“Yes! I love a good storm.” she said to herself as she dumped her chicken on the countertop and grabbed her camera from the table.

DSC00619Oh just look at those clouds, it’s going to be a good one, she said to no-one. Annie lived alone.

Standing on the deck for a better view, she captured the storm through the lens of her camera. Lightening flashed and thunder roared. It was a good way to end the day, nature in all its glory, showing its anger with the world.

Huge drops of rain splattered on the deck. “Bring it on” she yelled, her upturned face searching the skies for the best shot. She snapped photos, one after the other as the sky grew darker, not noticing the shapes appearing all around her. She saw only clouds.

“Open your eyes Annie” the wind howled, but Annie didn’t hear it.

She hummed to herself as she continued to snap photographs “Riders on the Storm”, it was her favorite song. Even at the mature age of 45, Annie was a wild one. Never married, no one could tame her. She pirouetted gracefully around the deck, dancing with the wind, her clothes sticking to her wet body, Devilalive for the first time in weeks.

Her camera was forgotten as she opened her arms to the skies.

The devil rode out in Colorado that night, looking for a soul to steal. As he looked down at Annie, he knew it would be easy pickings.

He reached his fiery hand down to scoop her up.

She never felt a thing.

When Annie failed to show up at work the following day, her colleges thought she was sick. After two days they began to worry.

On the third day, they called the police, who broke into her house.

Annie was nowhere to be seen, but they found her camera on the deck.

The photos captured there told a story. It was a story that would be told on dark nights around camp fires as teenagers shared their urban legends, only this one was true.

The Devil rode out in Colorado one night, looking for a soul to steal!

It was easy pickings.

My first novel ‘Dead of July’ is finally finished and will be for sale in September. 

Follow me on Facebook

Preview Dead of July

Dead of July (Small)[4] Color 1

Ghost Month or Candy Fest?

As Halloween approaches we fill our bowls with candy and await the steady flow of neighborhood kids! Is that what the Holiday is about? I think not.

When I was in my teens, and living in England, we didn’t really celebrate Halloween this way. No one knocked at your door seeking candy. Halloween was a non-event for some. For others it was a time to explore the forbidden, and scare yourself.

I would read Ghost stories by candle light, not because there was no electricity, but because I wanted to scare myself.

Someone once told me that if you stood in front of a mirror on Halloween, and recited ‘the Lords prayer’ backwards, you would invoke the Devil.

Yes, I tried it. Scared myself half to death in the process. Needless to say the Devil did not appear. In hindsight, its a very good thing he didn’t appear (assuming the Devil is male) because I am not sure what I would have done had I turned around to see the ugly horned one behind me.

If you have any unusual Halloween experiences to share, let me know.

Take a look at my short stories on Amazon, ‘Girl on the Beach’ is free to download for Kindle (eighty-six pence in the UK) and ‘Guy at the Bar’ is $0.99 or around eighty-six pence in the UK.

Girl on the Beach (US)

Girl on the Beach (UK)

Guy at the Bar Amazon

Guy at the Bar Amazon UK

Follow me on Facebook