Spirit in the Sky – The clouds are Gathering!

Bill used his thumb to push the button on the steering wheel that controlled the radio. Silence, and then the music started. An old tune began to play, sounded like it was from the sixties or seventies, sounded like it was a long way away.  Sophia smiled and hummed along!

“Prepare yourself you know it’s a must
Gotta have a friend in Jesus
So you know that when you die
He’s gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky”

“Did you have a friend in  Jesus Bill?”
Bill couldn’t hear her, but he felt something.
He looked in his rear view mirror, it clouded over as though there were a fog in the car.
Maybe I banged my head, or have smoke in my lungs, I don’t feel right. This weird old tune, is creepy.
He used his thumb and changed the radio station. Silence, then the same tune played over again.
So I know that when I die, he’s gonna recommend me to the spirit in the sky”
Bill felt something on the back of his neck. It felt like a spider, he slapped at it. Sophia blew gently into his ear. He felt it. He liked it, and relaxed again.
Jean ran her fingers up his inner thigh, stroking it. He felt that too. He opened his legs wide and smiled. Whispers all around him. Evocative whispers. Sensual pleasure enveloped him and he closed his eyes.
Sirens, loud and urgent got his attention.  Flashing lights directly in front of him, on a collision course. Bill tugged at the steering wheel and swerved to safety, he’d been driving on the wrong side of the road. Two police cars and an ambulance sped past him, their horns screaming. The spell was broken, the radio station changed.
Hey Soul Sister – Train blasted from the radio.
Bill pulled to the side of the road and got out of the car. He bent over and threw up.
“Yes, it’s definitely shock, I’ll go to the doctors tomorrow and get checked out”

Sophia and Jean stayed in the car and watched him. This slimy, cheating human life wasn’t going to be easy to extinguish, but it would be worth the wait. He’d suffer! Revenge was worth waiting for.


Jean hovered on the outskirts of the crowd and watched. Some folks left in cars, some returned to their rooms. Finally just a handful remained. They  were helping the police with their inquiries. She listened to Bill’s lies as he spoke to them.

Wiping his eyes, he put on a good show, “I just buried my wife, and couldn’t face going home, couldn’t face the house without her,” He looked distraught. His eyes were bloodshot, but from smoke not tears. “I’d not been in my room long, and was about to take a shower when I smelled smoke.” (he stopped and faked a very effective coughing fit)

Jean looked at the bulging pockets of his robe, and then back at his lying face. She willed the WPC to see past his lies, but is was useless.

“Sir, can I take your name and address, we’ll talk to you later. Get yourself checked out and go home. Where are your clothes?”
Bill stumbled over his first few words, but it the police officer didn’t notice.
“I er, I was getting into the shower, which is why I’m wearing this. Then I ran to the next room  to help the young lady…oh god, she’s dead isn’t she.” He began to cry.
The officer waved someone over, “Can you make sure this gentleman is okay to return home. Do you need a ride sir?”
“No, my car is here and I feel fine.”
Bastard, lying cheating bastard! You should be dead.
“Lets get you some clothes, you can’t go home in a robe”
Bill pulled the hotel robe around him tightly. The last thing he wanted to do was hand it over.
“I’m fine with this, I don’t live far away, and can pull straight into my garage. Please don’t trouble yourselves.”
“Well only if you’re sure.”
A paramedic came and talked to Bill, checked his vitals. He nodded to the Police officer.
“Off you go, get cleaned up at home, we’ll be in touch.”
Bill turned his back on the scene and walked away. He was smiling.
Do I take my Audi, or do I take the Alfa Romeo?

In the back of the ambulance, Sofia’s body was covered and zipped into a brown plastic body bag. Plastic couldn’t hold her angry spirit though. She sat up and watched the scene play out.

The bastard was married. I gave him my heart, but all he wanted was my money.

In a flash, she was next to Jean. They watched Bill walk towards the car, and then joined him. There was more room in the back of the Alfa Romeo, not that they needed it. Jean sat next to Bill in the front, Sofia sat in the back.

Bill was about to have the ride of his life!alfa-romeo-guilia-6.jpg

Love you to DEATH!


Jean’s spirit hovered behind her cheating husband she was mad as hell! His naked mistress sat up and raised her glass. Bill undid his belt and stepped out of his trousers, he shed the rest of his clothes as he approached the bed. Spirits shouldn’t feel pain, it should be wiped away with death. Why does this hurt so much!
“Turn it into anger, use it now!”
Jean didn’t know where the voice came from, or if it was just a thought floating through her head, but she acted on it.
Bill and Sofia fueled her anger. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, writhing in passion. Sofia purred and whispered in his ear in Russian, a language he didn’t understand, but it turned him on.
“I’m going to Love you to Death!” he said, his voice of lust. There was no love in his greedy mind. He didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Love you to death, love you to death, love you to DEATH!
Jean’s face fixed in a bitter smile as she looked at the candles that lit the room. Focusing on those at the foot of the bed, she toppled them. One or two were extinguished as the fell, but the rest stayed alight. They found fuel on the carpet and flames burned hungrily. Soon the carpet was ablaze.
The flames were low and spread unnoticed! Jean smiled as Bill’s discarded clothes caught fire.

“You don’t need to watch this.”

Finding herself on a grassy bank in the park across from the hotel, Jean watched the fire engines arrive, along with a couple of ambulance and police cars. The fire was soon extinguished. Hotel guests were brought outside, some coughing smoke and soot from their lungs. She hoped no one but Bill was hurt. A satisfied smile crossed her face when she saw the gurney wheeled out, the shape that it carried was completely covered. He was dead!

But he wasn’t, she still felt him, why did she feel his life?

Bill followed the gurney, supported by two firefighters. He sat on the steps and coughed.

Quick as a flash, Jean was in front of him. His face was sooty, but he was unharmed. Sitting on the steps, a hotel robe covering his naked lustful body, he was alive. Her anger turned white-hot. He looked in her direction and smiled.

Can he see me?

Sofia, his rich mistress was dead. Her jewelry and spare cash were stuffed in his robe, along with her credit cards and the keys to her Alfa Romeo! He smiled.

“Time to move on!”

Smoke Turns to Fire – I’ll Teach you to Burn!

Close to the hospital the smoke was dense. Neither of us spoke. Emergency vehicles were parked on either side of the road. Pete slammed on the brakes, almost hitting a police car, invisible until we were almost too close to stop.

“You can’t go any further mate! Only allowing ambulances and fire engines past this point.”

“My brother was in the hospital.” Pete lied.

“Park to the side and walk through. They’re treating everyone for smoke inhalation over in field behind the pub. The fires almost out. Its smoking bad though.” The cop pointed in the direction we needed to go.

This all started with smoke…

After a few steps I stopped and looked over my shoulder. “Did everyone get out okay?” I yelled back at the cop.

“Far as I know, haven’t heard of any fatalities. I think someone’s missing though.”

Please let Mick be safe!

We walked downhill to the field where nurses and doctors busied around patients. I couldn’t’ see Mick.

“Over there,” Pete said.

Mick sat alone on a pile of stones in the far corner of the field. When he saw us approach he smiled.

“Not my day is it?” he said.

I flung my arms around him and gave him a hug.

“Hey, careful, my ribs are a little sore from the fall.”

“What happened?” Pete asked.

“What, earlier when I almost fell to my death, or later when the hospital exploded?”

“The hospital!”

Mick looked me in the eye as he spoke. “The incinerator exploded apparently.”

“Anyone badly hurt?”

“The guy driving the ambulance is the only one with any serious injuries.”

“The nurse?” I asked.

“She’s fine, she took me to the examination room. Reggie, the driver, went off with the radio. Said he was going to throw it in the incinerator. Said it gave him the creeps. I swear I heard music coming from it as he walked away. That’s not possible is it?”

“Shit!” Pete said, “This is all my fault.”

“How can this be your fault, what’s going on? Was the radio a bomb or something? This isn’t an IRA issue is it? Do we need to talk to the Police?”

“No Mick, the Police couldn’t help with this.”

“Shh,” I said as I saw the nurse from this morning approach.

“You can take your friend home if you like, he’s fine. He’ll be better off at home than in this chaos.”

“How’s Reggie doing?” Mick asked.

“Reggie’s going to be fine!” she said, obviously relieved, “it looked worse that it actually is. His ankle is either sprained or broken, can’t tell till we get the results of the x-ray. There was a lot of blood from his head injury, but it’s not serious. Needed a couple of stitches, that’s all. He’s very lucky, the explosion must have thrown him a long way. Someone dragged him away from the flames. He’s in Catterick General until we know if his ankle needs surgery.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Mick said.

“Can we go and visit him?” I asked. I wanted to know what happened, he might have remembered something.

“Not today, pop in tomorrow if you want. Check with the hospital first though, if it’s just a sprain they’ll probably let him go home in the morning. We’re more worried about the other guy. We can’t find him.”
“What other guy?”

“Reggie kept mumbling about a young bloke in a leather jacket standing next to the incinerator. The firemen are looking for him now.”


Some where in the distance we heard music, weird music.

Dead of July is still available on Amazon for $0.99. I make take a stab at creating a Screen Play with my current short story, the one your reading on my blog….what do you think?

The Smoking Man – Death by Radio?

moorfire04We stared at the radio, unable to speak. The Nurse broke the silence. “Come one Reggie,” she urged the ambulance driver, “Lets get this gentlemen to the hospital for x-rays.”

Reggie looked at me, and then at Mick, “Weird,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. He found a bag in the ambulance and nervously scooped the remains of the radio inside. We expected it to burst into life again at any minute, but thankfully it remained silent.

“I’ll get rid of this when we get to the hospital. I think I’d like to incinerate it, make sure it doesn’t start up again. Bloody things possessed!”

I smiled weakly, if only he knew.

“Want me to come to the hospital with you Mick?” I asked.

“No, I’ll be OK. I can get a cab home. You should get to work anyway.”

The nurse shut the back of the ambulance and it rolled down Frenchgate and out of sight. Thank god he wasn’t killed. It would have been my fault.

Cindy greeted me at the front door when I got back to work.

“I was just coming to see where you’d got to. What’s going on?”

“I don’t think you want to know!” I said.

“Come on, let’s get inside.”

I was jittery all day, just waiting for something to happen. Thankfully the day was uneventful. I wanted to call Pete and tell him what’d happened, but I didn’t have a number for him, other than his parents’ house, and I didn’t want to call there in case his mum read something into it and thought we were an item again.

Five o clock finally came and I was relieved to find Pete waiting for me at the front door.
“It’s Friday, lets grab something to eat and go to the fair.”

“Pete, the radio, it came began to play again in the skip.”

“What? That’s not possible, no electricity, not batteries, and I smashed it up pretty good.”

“It came on! Nearly killed Mick McMichael!”


“He was working up on the scaffolding, on his own. The radio came on when he was throwing something down into the skip below. He lost his balance and fell.”

“Holy shit! How bad is he?” Pete turned pale, “its my fault I put it there.”

“He’s alright, landed on some insulation or something, broke his fall. It’s not your fault. It’s mine for involving everyone in the unholy mess.”

“It’s no ones fault. Who could expect a shattered radio to play? Where is it now?”

“In the hospital incinerator hopefully.”

Pete stood still, “Cottage hospital?”

“Yup, I guess that’s the closest.”

He sat on a wall at the side of the road. “You haven’t heard the news have you?”

“What news?”

The smell of smoke hit me. I looked across the valley. Cottage Hospital wasn’t visible from where we stood, but the smoke pouring out of it was.”


“It started an hour or so ago,” Pete said.

“NO! no, no!”

“Come on, let’s get your car and go over there, make sure Mick’s alright.”

I was too dazed to think, or argue. Pete led me home, got my car keys and drove. I dreaded what we might find there. I can’t take much more of this.

Its not funny anymore is it? Someone is going to get killed. What is it with the Smoking Man? The handsome exciting elusive dead stranger. What does he want?

Body Count 160

Lindsay sat up in bed gasping for breath, disoriented and scared. Morning light streamed through the curtains as she collected her scattered thoughts. She was sweating, but cold, very cold. She looked around nervously, afraid of what may be lurking in the shadows. Finally she got her breathing under control,  swung her legs out of bed and slipped her feet into her slippers. Grabbing her robe she padded into the kitchen and switched on the kettle before slumping into a chair at the kitchen table and resting her head in her hands. She thought about the night before. Did I really see those horrific burned figures in my bedroom? Was I dreaming? I’m losing it! 

The kettle boiled and she poured the steaming water over a tea bag in her favorite mug and left it to brew while she opened the fridge. Damn, no milk. I really don’t want to leave the house today. Drinking her tea black (it tasted bitter), she walked into the living room and opened the curtains. A white car was parked outside. The same car she’d seen more than once since the fire. Lindsay squinted against the sunlight, looking for passengers. Looking back at her, through the window, was the same solemn white face.

OK, I need to know who this is. She ran to the front door and opened it wide, just in time to see the car disappear from view. What the hell is the connection? She thought.

A Police car pulled onto the street. Great! 

Two police officers got out, one male and one female. They had serious expressions on their faces.

Now what? 

“We need you to get dressed and come to the station with us.”

“Am I being arrested?” Lindsay asked.

They ushered her into the house. Shutting the front door behind her, Lindsay turned to look at the grim-faced officers. “Why do I have to go to the station? I’ve told you everything I know already.”

“One hundred and sixty bodies have been recovered, you were the only survivor. We need to know what you saw, and why you left early.”

Lindsay felt numb, 160 bodies. God in a small town like this, that was a quarter of the youth population. She stumbled blindly into the bedroom and got dressed. In the behind her, she saw the fleeting image of a charred body. What the hell is happening to me?

“You’re over 18 and old enough to be interviewed alone, but is there anyone you’d like to call?” The female officer asked.

Lindsay shook her head, on television in situations like this, she’d ask for her lawyer! She seriously hoped she didn’t need one.

“No one!” she answered.

Police Car








Yes, a young girl in trouble. It’s the theme of all of my stories, most likely because I was always in trouble myself. If you’re enjoying this, and have read my previous short stories, check out my novel Dead of July, which is available to purchase from Amazon.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson


DEAD of the Night

Pam stayed with Lindsay all day, cooked for her, talked to her, and eventually shared a bottle of wine with her.

“I have to go now love, I need to go to work tomorrow. Will you be alright?”
“Yes, there’s a phone by my bed and I can call you, Steve, or even the local cops if I need to, although I don’t know why I’d need to call anyone. This cheap plonk you brought should knock me out anyway.” Lindsay replied.

“Cheap plonk? This bottle cost five quid. I’ll let myself out, lock the door after me and then you go to bed.” Pam stopped in the doorway and looked around at her friend. She looked sad and pathetic. “Maybe I should get my things and stay the night.”
“No, go home, I’ll be alright on my own. Look Pam, I’m not going to get over this for a long time, you can’t move in with me. I’m a big girl.”
Lindsay watched Pam walk down the path and cross the road before she closed the curtains. Alone at last she collapsed on the floor and cried. She cried until there were no tears left.

“Why spare me God, why me? I’m happy to be alive, but my life will never be the same again. All of my friends are dead. How could you let this happen?”

Lindsay thought about switching on the TV, but decided against it, she’d suffered enough bad news for one day. A car door slammed outside. Peeping carefully through the curtains, she half expected to see the mysterious white car, but instead saw a van with the name of one of the local news stations painted on the side. Great, that’s all I need, bloody reporters. Lindsay closed the curtains again, and put out the lights, hoping they wouldn’t bother her. She heard people talking in hushed voices and saw several flashes. Wonderful, now they’re taking photographs. Pretty soon I’ll have the world and his wife watching my house. I just want to be left alone.

She’d only been in bed for a few minutes when she heard the van pull away. Lindsay was almost asleep when she heard a floorboard creek in the corner of her room. Had the reporters found a way to get in. She sat up in bed. “Hello? Who’s there. I’ll call the police right now if you don’t get out.”

Mel emerged from the shadows, a cold dead eye dangling from her charred face. Lindsay screamed and ran for the door. Her way was blocked by the guy Mel was draped over on the dance floor. He grinned at her, cracking the dry black skin on his face. Lindsay passed out.


If you’re enjoying my short story, you may enjoy my first novel Dead of July, which is available on Amazon.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson



DED 1666

“Lindsay speak to me.” Pam said. “I’m here for you to cry, scream, whatever you need, I’m here. Don’t go silent on me.”

“Sorry! I feel like I’m in a living hell. I should be dead too. My friends are gone, burned to death and I’m here, still alive. Why was I spared?”

“Don’t apologize for being alive, be thankful. This was an awful tragedy, but its a reminder of just how precious life is, make the most of it. You’re here to live another day.”

“I know but….” Lindsay never got to finish her sentence, the doorbell interrupted.

“Shall I go?” Pam asked. Lindsay nodded “I don’t want to speak to anyone unless I have to, get rid of them if you can.”

“Sorry,” Pam said as brought a policeman into the kitchen, “I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“I’m Sargent Whitely, sorry to intrude. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, but I need to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.”

“Am I really the only survivor?”

“I’m afraid so, other than those who left the disco before you. Did you see anything odd during the evening, anyone acting nervous, suspicious?”

“No!” Lindsay answered.

“How about after you left the disco? My college told me you were walking home when you heard the explosion. Did you see anything at all that might be suspicious?”

“A car, I saw a car speeding along the road towards me.”

“What color?”

“I didn’t notice the color.”

“Could you see inside? Could you describe the driver?”

Lindsay thought about it, “Not really dark hair, young, big eyes, scared looking, but I don’t think I’d recognize him again.”

“So it was a man, was he driving or in the passenger seat?”

“Passenger, didn’t see the driver. I think the same car parked outside my flat later. I couldn’t see inside, it was dark, but something tells me it was the same car.”

“Are you sure?” Sargent Whitely asked as he frantically made notes in a small pad.


“Is there anything else?”

“DED 1666”


“The car that raced past me, its number plate was DED 1666.”








Dead of July – A Ghost Story by Sandra Thompson is available on Amazon.


Car Bomb?

march1973-55dea336d78d7508b666ed24d6128c5ed01020cb-s400-c85Lindsay watched the car for a long time. Although she couldn’t see the faces of the passengers, or the registration number, something looked familiar. Why did its presence bother her? Eventually, after making sure the doors to her flat were locked and bolted, she went to bed, but sleep evaded her for a long time. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what had become of her friends. The friends she’d damned all to hell, for leaving her alone again. The friends that may have burned in a fiery hell on the dance floor. Eventually sleep enveloped Lindsay’s mind and body, but not for long. She awoke as the first slither of light pierced the darkness. Opening her eyes, she immediately thought of the horrific explosions and flames. Oh my God, let it be a dream.

Slipping into her robe, Lindsay padded into the living room and peered through the curtains to see if the car with its sleeping occupants was still outside. It was gone. She sighed with relief.

Lindsay switched on the radio. Instead of the music that usually greeted her, two local newsmen talked about the tragedy at the local disco. They talked in low respectful voices. She sat at the kitchen table sipping tea and listening to the sickening news.  No survivors! Surely she’d heard wrong. There were at least fifty people on the dance floor when she left. How could there be no survivors. On automatic pilot, Lindsay made herself a cup of tea and sat back down at the table to drink it. When the phone rang she almost dropped the cup.


“Lindsay, its Pam. Thank God you answered, you were at the disco last night, they said there were no survivors.

Lindsay couldn’t speak. She sobbed down the phone.

“I’m coming to see you right now.”

It was only minutes before the doorbell rang. Pam lived a couple of streets away and was breathless when she arrived. Lindsay, still sobbing, collapsed into her arms.

“What happened?” Pam asked.

“I don’t know. I left early. I was halfway home when I heard the explosion. If I’d still been there…”

“Shhh, you’re safe. Don’t think about what had happened if you’d still been there.”

The radio caught their attention.

News just in points to a car bomb, although no one has taken responsibility. Of course one has to wonder if the IRA were involved because the disco ‘Studio 2’ was close to an army camp. The IRA remains silent.

“The fucking Irish!” Pam said. “I knew they had to be involved, bastards.” She had good reason to hate the Irish since her brother lost both of his legs bombing in a London car bombing.

Car…..Lindsay thought of the car that raced past her after the explosions. Holy shit, the same car that parked outside last night. Could it be involved? She shivered. Should she call the police?

Dead of July is still for sale on Amazon…if you like my blog, give it a try.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson