She opened her eyes slowly, head pounding, bones aching. It was cold and silent. Her vision cleared a little.
“I’m in a castle!”
The room was empty. Jessie stood up carefully, swaying a little. Atop of a few stone steps was a door, cracks of light shining around it.
She climbed the steps carefully, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Grasping the old iron handle, she pulled. The door didn’t budge. It was locked firmly from the outside.
“Noooooo!” she wailed.
The room swayed a little beneath her feet. Sitting on the step, she looked at the window in the opposite wall. It invited an icy breeze into the room, chilling her bones. Pushing herself to her feet, she walked towards it, her feet numb with cold.
Where are my shoes?
The window was high, overlooking mountains and clouds.
Where am I?
“Help, someone, anyone, please help me. HELP!
No one could hear her, no one answered.
Her only reply was the wind as it whistled by.
King William IV – Brompton-on-Swale
Every time I look at this pub it brings back warm fuzzy memories. It is the first place I legally purchased an alcoholic drink.
I remember the little group of old timers that sat in the bar every night.
I loved this place!
I remember Hen Parties (Bachelorette Parties in my current place of abode), and tinsel at Christmas.
I also remember the guy who tried to come on to me at the bar, and the landlady who let me out the back to escape him.
I embellished on this incident for my first ever short story, Guy at the Bar, and was immediately hooked on writing.
Guy at the bar can be purchased, with a collection of short stories in my eBook Ghosts on the Sand and other chilling tales. If you live in North Yorkshire and like quirky tales written by someone who spent their childhood in the beautiful village of Brompton on Swale, give it a try.
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
“Hey Man, no more climbing, let’s go through the tunnel”
“I don’t like tunnels?”
“We’ll run all of the way, won’t take us more than five minutes.”
“I don’t like tunnels!”
“If we climb the hill It’ll take us all day, and it doesn’t look safe, come on.”
Ralph headsed to the entrance and began to jog, not easy for him, he hated exercise. Jess followed reluctantly.
“Wait for me, don’t leave me alone, I really don’t like tunnels.”
Ralph soon slowed to a fast walk, jogging tired him quickly.
“C’mon Ralph, I don’t like it in here!”
Ralph picked up the pace and walked a little faster, but couldn’t jog.
“I’m coming, hold up.”
Jess waited for him.
“We’re not getting any closer to the other end, we should go back, I don’t like this.”
Ralph turned, “We’ve come a long way, we’re exactly in the middle, look”
Jess turned around, they were indeed an equal distance from either side. They kept going, focusing on the light ahead of them, the light that never got any closer. The light that seemed to get smaller.
“Ralph, I’m scared.”
His friend Ralph didn’t answer, Jess turned around.
“Come on, let’s go back.”
Ralph was gone!
Dead Of July
Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales
I do love to write! Ghosts on the Sand, my latest book, is available on Amazon. It’s a compilation of short stories. The sequel to my first novel “Dead of July” will be available at the end of this year. Its called Lingering Evil, watch out for it.
My car stopped at a precarious angle. I daren’t move! Had I slid towards the canal? I couldn’t tell. All I could see from the driver’s side window was snow, deep thick snow. The passenger side widow looked up towards the sky, soon to be covered with thick snowflakes. My only escape was through that window, but if I moved my car would surely slide into the cold water that could be inches away. My engine had stalled and bitter cold seeped into the car, freezing my breath as it hung in the air.
Movement, the car shuddered. I braced myself for action. Not sure what I’d have to do to fight for my life, but I was ready!
What happened next defied gravity. The car move slowly and gently, but not down the hill as it should, instead it glided up towards the road again, almost floating! I sat still as it leveled out, waiting for someone from a tow truck to come and tap on my window, but no one appeared. Putting my hand on the door handle, I made to get out and thank whoever had saved me, but before I had chance the car moved forward. How could that be?
Straining my eyes I saw a light ahead, muffled by the snow, but still a warm glow. For a split second it brought me comfort, and then I worried what it was.
Did I die?
The snow started about an hour before I left town. The weatherman said “flurries” so I didn’t give it a second thought. Thirty minutes into my journey I couldn’t see. My headlights were packed with snow. It came down hard and fast.
Unfamiliar roads, no hedgerows, flat open country. I knew from my trip to Thetford a canal ran along by the road. It was pretty in the sunlight, boats gliding along its glassy surface, but I couldn’t remember which side. In the flat white landscape that surrounded me, I couldn’t see. I was terrified I’d slide into the icy waters.
My head ached with concentration! I skidded! My heart missed a beat! I straightened up. My little yellow car was the only vehicle on the road. If anything happened, if I got into an accident, I’d freeze to death. Or maybe I’d drown in the icy waters of the canal. Inching along at ten miles an hour, tears streaming down my face, I prayed.
Please God get me home for Christmas.
Don’t let me die.
Sliding slowly sideways. Out of control. What shall I do? Oh dear god what shall I do?
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!
Special Offer on October 30th and 31st only.
Free for Halloween!
Mark your calendar and click the link above to get your Copy.
As a part-time independent writer, I don’t have the time (or money) for huge advertising campaigns. My day job keeps me busy and pays the bills. What I want to do more than anything else, is have people read, and hopefully enjoy my stories. I’m an old girl now and get tired a little more quickly than I used to, but I still write at every opportunity. For two days only, my latest stories will be free on Amazon. If you enjoy reading Ghosts on the Sand, please take the time to give me a review. I’d really appreciate it.
Four years ago, when I self published Dead of July, I was SO very proud of myself. I received some very honest reviews. They weren’t glowing reviews, but they weren’t bad either. They were encouraging, said I had a talent for writing. Life kept me busy for a while, but two or three weeks ago I finished my second book Ghosts on the Sandwhich is now available on Amazon. Ghosts on the Sand is a collection of short stories and already receiving great feedback. I don’t think the book will make me rich, but that’s not why I wrote it. My pleasure is writing. I have two more stories on a back burner, The Engineer, which started life as a novella, but is evolving into a novel, and aeroporto, an idea that tantalized my brain while sitting in a small airport in Pescara Italy. However, I’ve decided to put both of those on a back burner to write a sequel to Dead of July. There are things unfinished in Sheila’s life. A very evil woman lurks in the shadows, a woman who should be dead, a woman who wants revenge!