Shattered

Shattering window glass. Against a White background.

Shirley never finished her sentence.
The window just to the right of us exploded inwards. Splinters of glass flew towards us like tiny missiles. No time to move, we instinctively covered our heads with our hands and ducked. I felt tiny shards of glass hitting the back of my right hand, which was closest to the window. It only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed much longer. When I felt safe again I sat up Shirley’s head was on the table, she wasn’t moving.
The kitchen door burst open and Gay appeared. “Don’t move, I’ll call the medic’s.” Monica was right behind her, she looked at me “You okay?” she asked. “Yes, Shirley, are you alright?” Shirley lifted her head slowly, no blood on her face, her hands and hair had protected her head, but there was red mark on her forehead. She must have hit her head on the table.
She looked groggy. Her eyes wouldn’t focus!

Beware the Quiet Writer

I’ve been reading Stephen King as long as I can remember. From his very first story to his very last, and enjoyed ever single one. His last book, The Outsider, may have been my favorite. I say that and then I remember the Mr. Mercedes trilogy, and Dr. Sleep. Oh and then there are his novellas. His writing changed to suit the era, but I was drawn into every single book. When I read Stephen King I don’t open a book, I reconnect with old friends.

Why am I telling you this? Because I’ve been quiet for a while! My brain has been active though, and now, its ready to go. I’m writing for 1984, the era, the style, the times. My Dead of July sequel is progressing. You can’t rush, or force a good story. It needs to flow naturally. I want my readers to put it down, take a deep breath and think about me. I’m not Stephen King, I’m Sandra Thompson, but I want folks to remember what I’ve written, from Dead of July to….wherever it ends.

Stephen King, you had me at Carrie!

Dead of July (Small)

Giving it Away

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Ghosts on the Sand – Free

Its Easter Monday in beautiful Abruzzo. Been a busy week with not much time to write so instead I’m giving away a copy of Ghosts on the Sand, just to let you know I’m still around. Click on the link above from April 23rd to April 27th to get a free copy (kindle/electronic only).

If you enjoy a traditional ghost story, you’ll enjoy this collection. I’d appreciate a review on Amazon if you have time.

ENDLESS TUNNEL

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“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. 

Did I die?

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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?

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!

The Ghosts are almost ready!

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Ghosts on the Sand is almost ready to publish. Its been in the works for four years because its hard to be a part-time author. Do you like the book cover? I love it and I hope it’s the first of many from Kara Boulden! This book is a collection of four stories.

Ghosts on the Sand is the first story in my new collection. It’s about a young girl (Sheila)  and her mother on holiday in Blackpool. They’re spending time together to heal after escaping a violent, angry man, Sheila’s dad. Things don’t work out quite as planned.
I Love you Neil is a super short story about two brothers. Can’t reveal anymore or I’d spoil the plot.
Guy at the Bar is actually the first story I wrote (in my adult years anyway), and is based on an experience I had in the King William IV pub in Brompton on Swale. I have fond memories of this pub, but this isn’t one of them. It’s a story about a nasty drunk who had no respect for women. (There is a bit of a twist of course)
Camera starts on the road from Richmond to Brompton on Swale (near the turn off to Easby Abbey). A broken down car and a camera swinging on the fence. What could go wrong? You’d be surprised. One of my hobbies is photography, but I hope I never come across a camera like this one.

I really want you to enjoy these stories, and review them on Amazon for me. I’m and “old gal” but I feel my writing career has just begun.

Thank you!

Old Tarts and Blackpool Rock

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Sonia’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She cut me off mid-sentence and in a high-pitched voice that hurt my ears, she yelled,

“Your mam was in Blackpool with her fancy man, and you were there, too. Your mam is nothing but an old tart!”

Although I was only seven, I knew exactly what an old tart was.

Gripping my brown leather satchel tightly, I used all my strength, and swung it toward her. It was heavy with my reading books and the remaining sticks of Blackpool rock, and it flew through the air like a missile, whacking the side of her face. My anger gave me strength I didn’t know I had, and when it made contact with her head, her eyes rolled back and she sank to the ground, where she lay like a beached whale.

Yes, I write about ghosts and haunting, but I am who I am and every story has a little “ME” in it. That means there is a lot of truth and a little humor. Hope you enjoyed this small excerpt from Ghosts on the Sand, a story about a young girl who sees ghost and has unwelcome premonitions. 

Watch out for “Ghosts on the Sand and other chilling tales” coming out soon on Amazon. 

Strangled!

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Sofia and Jean rested on the bed with Bill between them. He drifted into a guilt free sleep and dreamed of women, money and sex. It was his life, all he thought about. Sofia caressed his upper thigh and watched him grow. Jean breathed into his ear. He smiled in his sleep. In his dream his was back in the hotel, straddled by his now dead mistress, enjoying her attention, her body, her money. His dream felt real.

“Room Service!”
The door opened and his dead wife stood there, naked, pale, beautiful. Jean had been a good-looking woman. He beckoned her. She joined Sophia on the bed. Bill watched them kiss and caress each over. Two naked beautiful naked women. Overcome by lust, he pulled them down beside him.
“Shhh, wait, don’t rush it.”
Sophia opened the drawer where the pendant lay, the gift he’d chosen to lure his next mistress. She slipped it over her head it sat between her perfect breasts as she mounted him again. Bill closed his eyes and drifted into ecstasy, the like of which he’d never experienced before…nor would again.

When Bill didn’t show up for work his colleges assumed he was grieving. Jean’s parents were lost in their own grief and days slipped by. Days turned into weeks.

Three weeks after the hotel fire a young police detective called Maria, knocked on the front door of Bill’s home. When there was no answer, she assumed he was at work. As she turned to leave a neighbor approached.
“I think he’s home, I saw him come back on the day of the funeral. I haven’t seen him leave.”
“The funeral was two weeks ago wasn’t it?”
Maria knocked again. The house was silent.
“He was driving a different car, fancy Italian, my husband said it was an Alfa Romeo.”
“Was he alone?” Maria asked
“I think so, but there was a lot of noise in his house that night,” she lowered her eyes, “It came from his bedroom.”
“What sort of noise.”
The neighbor’s face turned bright red, “You know, bedroom noise. Not the sort of noise you wouldn’t expect to hear after a funeral. I never liked him. I saw him once, in a restaurant, a woman draped all over him. It wasn’t Jean! I have a key if you want to go inside. Jean gave it to me so I could water the plants when they were away. Sweet heart she was. Can’t understand why she’d take her own life.”

Maria waited while the nosy, but helpful neighbor to fetch the key. Something wasn’t right. It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek inside.
The smell hit them as soon as Maria opened the front door. Lou, the neighbor took a couple of steps back. “Oh my!”
“Stay here,” Maria hissed. She walked quickly through the clean, tidy house and then returned to the front door to get a mouthful of fresh air. Slowly she walked up the stairs. The first door on the landing stood ajar. Maria didn’t make it past the doorway.

The bedroom was warm and steamy, as though someone had just stepped out of the shower. The stench of decay was overwhelming. The naked corpse lay tied to the bed, eyes bulging in terror. Expensive jewelry adorned the dead man’s purple bruised neck. He’d been strangled.

Something moved in the bathroom. Did Maria hear a voice? Did someone moan in pleasure? Was that the sound of gentle laughter?

She fled downstairs, and called for backup.

Two spirits hovered in the bedroom for a little while, and faded into the atmosphere. Their work was done.