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.

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Lies

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!

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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!”

Revenge!

 

 

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Bill hugged Jean’s family as though he meant it, putting on a good show for the mourners. He hadn’t wanted Jean dead, but he hadn’t wanted Jean anymore, the novelty had worn off, he was moving on. Death, although not planned, did make their marriage final. Tied up loose ends. Lissa, his new girlfriend, was rich and beautiful. Ten years older than him, but that was a good thing. It made her more desperate, willing to give him things. He could make this one last a while. Long enough to take her money anyway!
“Will you come back to the house with us Bill? It’s only going to be a small gathering. Close family?” Jean’s mum asked.
“No! I just want to be alone with my memories.”
Bill wiped his eyes, there were no tears there, but he looked convincing. Lori studied his handsome face. She didn’t see evidence of sleepless nights or tears. His eyes weren’t bloodshot from crying. In fact he didn’t look sad at all. She was suspicious.
“Our family will expect to see you there” she said, “They’ll worry about you if you don’t show up.”
Lori’s dad spoke up. “Leave him Lori. Bill, I’ll call you during the week. Maybe we can get together.”
“Yes, let’s do that!” Bill turned and walked away, just a little too quickly, looking at his watch. He knew Lissa would be waiting for him in the hotel room. She’d be wearing something expensive that exposed lots of skin. A bottle of champagne would be sitting in a bucket of ice next to the bed. She was an adventurous lover, which made her quite irresistible.
How long can I respectfully wait to re-marry?
With that thought in his head he jumped into his red Audit TT. The one Lori helped him choose, but Lissa paid for. Life was good, or so he thought. He didn’t know he had a passenger. His dead wife sat unseen in the back seat.
Your days are numbered Bill! I could kill you right now, but I want to see you suffer!

You’ll be Sorry!

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A small group of mourners left the graveyard. Jean’s parents, her sister and her husband. The look on her parents face was that of grief and raw disbelief. They clung to each other, tears streaming down their tired faces. Lori, her sister was sad and confused. Bill, her husband, wore a mask of guilt.
“I’m so sorry!” he said as they walked away.
No you’re not sorry now, but you will be!
Jean was raised a catholic, suicide was not tolerated, yet her lifeless body lay in a wooden box in the ground. Overdose! Shame to the family! She wasn’t at rest though, she crouched in the shadows watching. Bill looked sorry, but it was for show, for the funeral, for the family. His girlfriend waited for him in a hotel close by. Jean knew the place well, she’d followed him there a week ago.
Watched them through the window, saw them leave the restaurant and get into the elevator. Jean approached the front desk and asked for a spare key, said she couldn’t remember the room, but her husband was waiting for her. Gave her name.
“Ah yes, Mr. Richardson, room 102”
She mounted the stairs and stood listening outside the bedroom door. She heard their sighs, whispers, moans.
Opening the door she stood and watched.
Naked bodies so absorbed in love-making they didn’t notice her.
She fled, Bill was her whole life, she was pregnant with his child. Barely able to see though her tears, she drove home.

A bottle of Riesling and a thirty sleeping pills did the trick. Death came quickly and she was thankful, but it wasn’t over.

Hiding in the bushes by the graveyard Jean’s was no longer asleep. Her troubled spirit angry, and it wanted revenge!

Breaking Through!

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I’d almost given up on myself. I love to write, been doing it since I started High School. I wrote when I was unhappy. I wrote when I was happy. So much in my head! I’ve only published one novel I’m proud to admit is mine. It’s never going to be on the best seller list, but I’m not ashamed of it. It was my introduction to publishing.

Dead of July – Amazon

I have three more stories finished and ready to put into a compilation, “Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales”. Whats holding me up? My last story “The Engineer”. This story started with nothing but a title floating around in my head. At first it was set in Northern Italy, but it moved across Europe to North Yorkshire, before getting lost in my brain. The Engineer is back now, struggling to be free,  hammering at my temples, scratching the back of my eyeballs, fighting his way out. I need to get his story finished before he finishes me. I’ve heard he drinks blood!

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Brompton-on-Swale

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I’d planned to have this book released by Christmas 2017. I know, it didn’t happen. I love writing so much I don’t have time to publish, and I certainly can’t afford a publisher. Oh well, when it eventually does get released later this year it’s going to be a bargain book for those of you who love England, especially the north-east. The stories packed into this book include;

Ghosts on the Sand (set in Blackpool)
Guy at the Bar (set in Brompton-on-Swale and Richmond)
Camera (set in Brompton-on-Swale and Richmond)
The Engineer (set in a fictitious village in County Durham)

Why are most of my stories set in the North East? Because it’s the best part of England. Northerners are genuine, down to earth and fun!

I was born in Bishop Aukland, lived in Shildon until I was 4 years old. I then fled with my mam to Etherly and Butterknowle to escape my violent dad. Mam finally found a job and house in Summerhouse, county Durham, where we lived until 1967. When she remarried we moved to Brompton-on-Swale, the village that shaped my life. Even though I live in the United States now (well until I retire to Italy), Brompton-on-Swale is on my mind a great deal. I wish I could become a famous writer. If I did I’d make sure to let everyone know where I came from. I’d tell them about that down to earth little village, where everyone knew everyone else and looked out for their neighbors. Many folks were born there and never moved away. They are the lucky ones. My wandering spirit won’t let me stay in one place too long. I pop back every now and again. Yes, it’s changed, but I still think of it as home.

TV Zombie

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Norah whispered softly to her pup as she carried her home.
“Please don’t die on me. You’re my baby, you got me through college, and law school. I need you.”
Lacie’s breathing was shallow, she no longer whimpered, and her little body was limp.
“Almost home baby, almost safe.”
Why aren’t the lights on along the driveway?
She thought of calling John again, but changed her mind. As she stepped onto the asphalt driveway, the lights came back on, dimly at first, slowly growing brighter.
Must have been a power cut.
Then lights became abnormally bright and one by one, as she passed them, the bulbs exploded. Holding Lacie close, she continued slowly towards the house.
Somethings wrong here, very wrong.
A strange blue light spilled from the open drapes in the living room window. She left the path and walked across the lawn to see what it was. Peering into her own house she saw the silhouette of her husband John. He was standing in front of the television, staring at a screen that showed nothing but blue static. Norah watched him for thirty seconds or more. He began to speak, but not in his normal voice. The words were monotone and in a language she’d never heard.
What the hell is going on here?
Her husband turned around and walked towards the window. Nora held
her breath.
Don’t let him see me!
Why was she suddenly afraid of her husband? His face was blank, expressionless.
Did he see me?
He closed the drapes, shutting her out. The static grew louder, it surrounded her. Norah became dizzy, she wanted to throw up.
I have to get Lacie to the vet.
A loud pulsing buzz erupted from Norah’s hom. It made the air feel heavy and oppresive.
Lacie whimpered weakly, spurring Norah to take action, but two steps were all she managed before her legs gave way. Norah’s brain switched off moments before her body made contact with the soft wet grass.

Street Talk – A Christmas Story

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The office of Street Talk Magazine sat on the edge of George Street Memorial Park in a small town in Northern England. The Park was named after George Street, founder of Street Talk Magazine. It was dedicated to him in 2001 after he and his wife were killed in a car crash. The drunk driver, who hit them head on escaped unhurt, so did Valerie, the Street’s ten-year old daughter.

George and Ethel Street had only one child and thankfully they’d left a very detailed will to make sure she was taken care of. All profits from the thriving magazine went into to a trust until she was old enough to make decisions. The Magazine was run by a trusted team of long time employees in the meantime and continued to be successful. After the tragedy, Valerie fell off the face of the earth. Local media were interested in her for a while, and tried to track her down, but they soon lost moved on to other stories.

*************

It was a cold December morning. Small particles of ice fell from clouds that looked so full they wanted to burst.
“Snows coming!”
“What, oh Morning Ian, I thought you were on vacation this week.”
“Should be, but our new CFO needed me here to go over some figures for last year.”
The two Street Talk employees hurried through the park, clouds of breath escaped their mouthes as the talked.
“Jesus its cold!” Gina said “Look, that homeless woman is under the bridge. Surely she’ll die out here.”
At the edge of the park, on the cold stone ground, sat the solitary figure of a woman. Her hood was pulled over her face. Neither Ian nor Gina knew what she looked like. They knew she was female because of her voice.
“I’m going to give her enough money to go and buy breakfast somewhere, she needs to get out of this cold.”
Gina took a ten pound note from her wallet. Crouching down she handed it to the pitiful figure. A grateful voice floated from the hood of the old coat she wore. “Thank you and God bless you”
“Here, take my coffee, I haven’t touched it” Ian said as he gave her his Starbucks.”
The woman looked up at them and for the first time they saw her face. It was grimy and tired looking, but it was young. They were both taken aback.
“Merry Christmas!” She said.
Neither of them spoke until they were out of earshot.
“She’s our age, ” Ian said. “I wonder what happened to her.”
A voice from behind interrupted them, loud and thoughtless
“You shouldn’t give money to street people, they’re likely to have all sorts of diseases. I’m going to call the Tim in Security and see about getting here removed. She has no right being here. It’s a disgrace. They should find a place to put people like her.”
It was Desiree, the new CFO. She bulldozed past them, her expensive high-heeled boots piercing the morning silence as they stabbed the ground.
“Bitch!” Gina whispered as the followed her into the building.
“Careful, she’ll hear you, she already fired her analyst for less.”