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! 

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Lingering Evil – WHY?

Dead of July (Small)

Two brothers, Yuri and Viktor. One dead, one in Jail. What happened to their evil unforgiving mother Marianna? Is she dead or alive?

Read  Dead of July and see how she taunted me in Summer of 1982. Here intentions were obvious, she wanted me dead! I thought I was free of all of them, but in 1984, when I discovered I was pregnant Marianna and Victor returned to haunt me.

I’m working on Lingering Evil, the sequel to Dead of July

Lingering Evil takes up where Dead of July left off. It’s not over yet!

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!

A prod in the Night

darkvigilI woke up at 3 am! It was dark and cold, but I was sweating. Did I have a fever? It wouldn’t surprise me, I’ve been sick most of the week. It was hard to breathe so I sat up. My husband snored peacefully beside me.

Something drifted to the floor by the doorway. A feather!

I haven’t written all week, been too sick! Was the dark shadow that slid down the stairs reminding me?

I haven’t forgotten you Dark Angel, Herald of Death! Our story isn’t finished yet.

 

Dead of July – Germany 1982

 

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.

a-lovely_grazing_meadow_under_stormy_sky-1576220

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

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

Please DON’T get me to the church on time – Dark Angel

“Mum, I really don’t want to go to church, I have too much to do.” I insisted.

My mum’s voice sounded weary. “Lucy, for me, please. I promised Reverend Laybourn you’d come. He’s worried about you.”

“Tell him to go and tend to the parishioners who need him, I don’t.” I said sharply. Did I hear my mum sob? I was tired. Sleep had eluded me for several nights. The truth was, I was afraid to sleep, afraid of where my dreams took me.

“For your dad, Lucy, go in memory of your dad.” That was a blow below the belt, but it got my attention and I felt guilty.

“OK mum, I’ll go to church. I’ll see you there. Ten o clock right?”

“I’ll pick you up at 9:30.” she said. Damn, there was no way of getting out of it was there? She hung up the phone before I could object.

St. Pauls ChurchI started feeling nauseous at around 9:15 and by the time my mum arrived I was quite sick. After waiting it the car for five minutes, she came up to see what was wrong. “You look as white as a sheet, are you alright?” she asked.

“Not really mum, I think I should stay here, go to church without me.”

She pursed her lips in determination. “You are going to church, it’s cool in there, it will make you feel better.” Fighting with her was pointless so I followed her down to the car. The closer we got to the church, the worse I felt. I could barely muster up strength to get out of the car. We walked slowly toward St. Paul’s, a place of worship I’d frequented often as a child and teenager. A place I didn’t want to go anymore. When we reached the gate, I could go no further. With my my hand on the wall to support me, I bent down and threw up. My mum stepped back. “Oh dear,” she said, “You really are sick, let me get you some water.” As he walked towards the church, I stood up, suddenly full of energy and snarled, “Just make sure it’s not holy water.” The laughter that followed, coming from my own mouth, wasn’t mine, and it scared me.

My mum turned around and looked at me, clearly shaken, then she stood in front of me and slapped my face, hard.

If you enjoy my short stories, give my novel Dead of July a try.

Now available on Amazon

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

Book Sale!

I’m fairly new to the world of writing, and unknown to all be a few. My marketing skills aren’t great. I have a family, a home and a full-time job. Why would anyone want to spend $4.99 to read my book? I get it!

Starting August 4th for one week only, the kindle edition of Dead of July will be on sale for $1.99. Give it a try, take a chance on me! I would love to hear from you after you read it.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson