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!

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!”

King William IV – Brompton

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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.

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)

Alone?

Dead of July (Small)

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

A Valentine’s Day Surprise

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Valentine’s day 1984

Dortmund, Germany

“Congratulations, you’re going to be a mum.”
I was stunned!
“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes no doubt about it! You look surprised, you were planning a family weren’t you?”

“Yes, but I just didn’t expect it to happen this quickly?”
The young Army Captain’s piercing blue eyes focused on me from across the desk. “You are one of the lucky ones, some people try for years to get pregnant. You are happy about it right! You wanted this baby didn’t you?”

His handsome face looked concerned, “Do you want me to talk to your husband?”

“What, no, this is great news,” I replied, “I’m just not sure I know how to be a mum.”

The young Captain laughed out loud.

This is the sequel to my first novel Dead of July. It starts with good news, a baby, but soon things go bad and once again Sheila is fighting for her life and trying to preserve the life of her baby!