1984 – Evil Lingers

Remember the eighties? I do! I was in my early twenties and living in Dortmund, West Germany!
Remember the hairstyles, those fashions…need I say more? It was a blast…except when it wasn’t.
Remember those movies “The Evil Dead, The Exorcist, Phantasm, Nightmare on Elm Street”? Scary weren’t they? You’d snuggle up to someone for protection, feeling nervous, jumpy and wondering if those thing really happened.

For me they did happen. They happened when I had no one to snuggle up to. They happened when I was alone and vulnerable, and I’ll never forget. Evil Lingers for a long time, and the memory lingers even now!

Decapitated – Lingering Evil

Laughter exploded once again, filling the room. Overpowering, deafening, evil laugher and the mirror in front of me cracked from left to right, decapitating my image.tumblr_nf1swqCdsk1tzqrfpo1_500

The long awaited sequel to Dead of July is progressing nicely. Sheila is pregnant and looking forward to being a mum. Memories from the past haunt her, literally. Watch out for Lingering Evil. Coming soon…set to scare you!

A Good Irish Priest to scare the Daemons away.

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His words floated around me, seeming to come from a long way away. The atmosphere in the room changed. The temperature dropped drastically. Feeling light headed, I clutched the side of the chair, scared I was going to faint. Captain Myers stood up, a concerned look on his face, “Are you feeling alright? Look at me, focus. Sheila, whats going on?”

“Sorry, I feel sick, and a little bit dizzy.”

“Take some deep breaths, concentrate on breathing.”

I tried, but it didn’t seem to help. Captain Myers took the green army blanket from the examination table and put it around my shoulders. He crouched down in front of me and spoke softly, but I wasn’t listening to what he said.

The shadows grew dense and threatening, my vision blurred. The room tilted to one side slowly. I hung on to my chair as though my life depended on it.

“Sheila, you don’t look good. What’s happening?”

The doctor snapped his fingers in front of my face, “Come on, come back to me, snap out of it.”

Evil laughter filled the room…and then it was gone.
The shadows vanished, tears rolled down my cheeks.
There was a tap on the door, “Who is it? I’m with a patient.”

A soft lilting Irish voice answered, “It’s I, Major McCafferty. May I come in?”

Help – Viktor’s Back

Shadows in my car, I could see them.

You can’t hurt me, you’re dead. You can scare me, but you can’t hurt me.

Dead of July (Small)

“I need help,” I whispered.

Major McCafferty stopped and faced me.

“Why, whats wrong?”

“Viktor,” I whispered, “he’s back!”

Lingering Evil

 

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“Sheila, you’d better tell me what’s going on, why are you so stressed?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

“Come on, deep breath, talk to me.”

“Viktor,” I whispered, “He’s back.”
“What? Sheila he’s dead.”

“Death didn’t stop him last year did it?” I sobbed.
“Last year you were contending with his evil family, they were playing tricks with your mind, not Viktor. Viktor is dead.  His mother is also dead. Died in that horrendous fire, and hopefully burning in Hell.  Yuri is in prison, they can’t hurt you. Look at me Sheila, listen to what I’m saying. The can’t hurt you anymore!”

I knew it was no use arguing. Neither Shirley or Jill had had seen Viktor, I was the only person cursed with seeing the dead. Now Shirley thought I was crazy. Maybe I was.

Evil Lingers for a while. Lingering Evil,  my sequel to Dead of July is in the works, and coming along as nicely as Dead Russians will allow. 

 

 

 

 

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)

Lingering Evil – Shadows

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“Who’s there?” I asked again.

Whispers in the darkness! Distorted shadows moved past the end of the bed and deepened in the corner of the room.

Les sat up sleepily. “What’s going on? Are you having one of your dreams?”

I sometimes had dreams that turned out to be premonitions, Les was used to them, but they were unpredictable.

“No, someone touched me!”

I was wide awake.

The Ticking of the Engine

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Glancing back at my car, I expected to see Viktor sitting in the passenger seat, an evil grin on his face, but there was nothing there. What I’d heard was most likely the ticking of the engine cooling down. Alfa Romeos ran hot, just like the Italians, and I drove it hard. There was nothing to see, but I felt a sudden chill, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Come on, let’s get you inside, you’re shaking. You need a hot, sweet cup of tea.”

I barely heard Shirley’s words, but allowed her to lead me up the stairs to our office.

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Yes, I’m writing again. This is the follow-up to Dead of July which I published back in 2013. You can only write when the time is right!!!