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”



Viktor – The Evil Dead!

Dead of July (Small)

My novel is almost ready for its last visit to wonderful editor, Leslie Miller. http://lesliemillerwordsmith.com

Sixty pages of reading and ‘fixing’ to go. Much of this story is pulled from fact. I still have the photo album referended in this story. This poem was written by me in 1974, and proudly remains in the front of the album. Yes, I am Sheila and forty years later I still have premonitions and I still see dead people.


I was too agitated to sit still. Although I didn’t really want to touch the photo album, I had to. I wanted make it mine again I picked it up and looked at the first page. Tears stung my eyes as I remembered receiving the album as a gift from my mum in June 1974. I’d written the date in the front cover of the album, along with a poem to mark the occasion. It went like this.


Memories of happy days,

Should never be allowed to die

And this, my album, I hope displays,

How in my heart they lie,

Golden moments of laughter and fun,

Are captured for all to see,

When I am not quite so young,

Just how I used to be.


            I’d been taking photographs from the day I was old enough to hold a camera. It was a hobby. The first two photos were treasured memories of my first David Bowie Concert at Earls Court, London in May 1973. The third photo was of my first vacation in Rimini, Italy. Those were happy carefree days and I wanted them back. I looked around to see Les looking at the photos too.

“Don’t let what happened today spoil your memories. Viktor is a vile unhappy spirit, but we will be rid of him soon. Father Ernie and Major McCarthy will send him to hell where he belongs.” He said and hugged me again.

Evil Dead – 1982 Movie

Scary 1982 Movie

I had to share this with you, and remind you of the horror films we watched back in 1982. When I posted the first snipped from my ‘Walk in the Park’ story a couple of days ago, my niece Adele (who isn’t that much younger than me) reminded me that she watched this with us in Germany on our old ‘Betamax’ video recorder. 

She spent two weeks with us in the Summer of 1982. Shortly after watching this movie, she went up into the attic to hang out the washing, and was terrified something was going to come up through the floorboards and get her.

These old horror movies are pretty lame by todays standards, but they were scary at the time. I wonder if the apartment buildings in Germany still have attics full of washing lines.  I had forgotten about that! Obviously its burned in my niece’s memory, and not for good reasons. Sorry Adele!

Its fun writing stories that are entwined with my past, it brings back all sorts of memories both good and bad.  Keep reading, my German Ghost Story is pretty long and should keep you going for a while. Hope you like it.

Anyone else remember their scariest movies from 1982?