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.
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!
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!
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
Valentine’s day 1984
“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!
Viktor is back from Hell and full or rage. He is looking for revenge in the worst possible way.
Evil Lingers in the shadows! The sequel of Dead of July is underway!
Special Offer on October 30th and 31st only.
Free for Halloween!
Mark your calendar and click the link above to get your Copy.
As a part-time independent writer, I don’t have the time (or money) for huge advertising campaigns. My day job keeps me busy and pays the bills. What I want to do more than anything else, is have people read, and hopefully enjoy my stories. I’m an old girl now and get tired a little more quickly than I used to, but I still write at every opportunity. For two days only, my latest stories will be free on Amazon. If you enjoy reading Ghosts on the Sand, please take the time to give me a review. I’d really appreciate it.
Four years ago, when I self published Dead of July, I was SO very proud of myself. I received some very honest reviews. They weren’t glowing reviews, but they weren’t bad either. They were encouraging, said I had a talent for writing. Life kept me busy for a while, but two or three weeks ago I finished my second book Ghosts on the Sandwhich is now available on Amazon. Ghosts on the Sand is a collection of short stories and already receiving great feedback. I don’t think the book will make me rich, but that’s not why I wrote it. My pleasure is writing. I have two more stories on a back burner, The Engineer, which started life as a novella, but is evolving into a novel, and aeroporto, an idea that tantalized my brain while sitting in a small airport in Pescara Italy. However, I’ve decided to put both of those on a back burner to write a sequel to Dead of July. There are things unfinished in Sheila’s life. A very evil woman lurks in the shadows, a woman who should be dead, a woman who wants revenge!
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.