Death Memory

522891-murder”Why does it feel warm?”

She undid the popper that kept the camera case closed. The clicking had stopped, but camera vibrated. It was processing something. Barbara shuddered.

“I don’t like the way it feels, it feels warm alive.”

“Here, give it to me,” Lucy said, “this whole thing might be some sort of joke, lets see what on its memory.”

Barbara looked around uncomfortably; they were surrounded by darkness and silence. It wasn’t a good place to be at night. Lucy gasped.

“Oh sweet Jesus. Oh dear God.”

“What is it?”

Lucy turned stood next to her friend and showed her the secrets captured in the camera’s memory. Barbara turned around and hung on to the branch of a tree while she threw up.


Green Eyed Monster


Sometimes, like the devil, jealousy whispers persistently in your ear.
The green-eyed monster, you have to fight him!

Celine and Cassie were best friends, and had been since Kindergarten. They shared everything, including head lice because their heads, full of bouncy curls, were always together. They went to the same college, shared an apartment, shared a car, but things came undone when they both fell in love with the same man.

He was tall with a mop of thick black hair. His eyes were the deepest blue. He as French and from the moment he opened his mouth, they were both smitten.

“Lets just stay away from him,” Cassie said, “that way nothing can happen, he won’t date either of us and we can continue living our lives just as we always have. He probably doesn’t like us anyway, so we shouldn’t worry.”

She knew different though. She already had a second date with him, they’d already kissed. She told Pierre not to mention it to Celine, she didn’t want her to know. He agreed. As she saw more of him, Celine grew suspicious.

“Where have you been?” Celine asked on night when Cassie got in late.

“I’ve been working out.”

It made sense, she did smell a little, her hair was a mess and her make-up smudged. It started to happen a lot though. Cassie began to follow her. One night Cassie didn’t come home at all. She was gone the following day too. When she finally turned up late in the evening, her eyes shone and she was flushed.

“What have you been up to?” Celine said, her eyes narrowing.

“I’ve met a boy.” Cassie said, “I didn’t want to tell you, but I do now. I think I’m in love.”

“Why did you keep it a secret? Why didn’t you let me meet him?”

Cassie hung her head, “Because you know him. It’s Pierre.”

“You goddamn lying bitch, we agreed to stay away from him. You know I like him.”

Cassie walked across the room. Celine met her half way.

“I’ve been following you. I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. I watched you together you slut! He only wants you for sex.”

“Cassie held out her hand, a diamond sparkled from her engagement finger.”

“He loves me, look, we’re engaged.”

Celine looked odd, he right eye twitched. Her face contorted in anger. She trembled. The room seemed to go a shade darker. She grabbed Cassie by the throat with superhuman strength and pushed her backwards towards the wall, banging her had violently. Blood ran down the yellow paint.

“Celine stop, you’re hurting me.”

“Not nearly enough.” Cassie reached behind her and grabbed a meat cleaver. She’d placed it on the table earlier. Her first intention was to scare Cassie with it. Now she wanted to kill her.

Celine’s eyes looked green, scary and she smiled a deranged terrifying smile as she dragged Cassie towards open window and sank the knife into the top of her head. She didn’t look so happy now.

Below Pierre waited  for Cassie to call him. He knew she was going to tell Celine they were an item. The were engaged and Celine would be the first to know. She’d make a beautiful bridesmaid. Shame she was a closet lesbian. He’d been attracted to her first, until Cassie told him he was wasting his time, she preferred women.

He saw two shapes in the window of their 4th floor apartment. Getting out of the car, he locked the door. It was time to go up and celebrate.

He crossed the road and stood beneath the window, looking up, waiting for one of them to wave at him. Cassie’s face appeared, she opened her mouth to shout at him. He smiled!

Cassie was dead before she fell. The meat cleaver had taken off the top of her head. It was still lodged in her brain when she fell on top of Pierre, it hit him between the eyes. He died instantly.

Their blood mingled and surrounded them on the sidewalk.

Celine looked down at them before stabbing herself in the shoulder.

“Help, HELP!” she yelled from the open window, “I’ve been attacked. He killed my friend, won’t somebody call an ambulance. HELP!”

DED 1666

“Lindsay speak to me.” Pam said. “I’m here for you to cry, scream, whatever you need, I’m here. Don’t go silent on me.”

“Sorry! I feel like I’m in a living hell. I should be dead too. My friends are gone, burned to death and I’m here, still alive. Why was I spared?”

“Don’t apologize for being alive, be thankful. This was an awful tragedy, but its a reminder of just how precious life is, make the most of it. You’re here to live another day.”

“I know but….” Lindsay never got to finish her sentence, the doorbell interrupted.

“Shall I go?” Pam asked. Lindsay nodded “I don’t want to speak to anyone unless I have to, get rid of them if you can.”

“Sorry,” Pam said as brought a policeman into the kitchen, “I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“I’m Sargent Whitely, sorry to intrude. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, but I need to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.”

“Am I really the only survivor?”

“I’m afraid so, other than those who left the disco before you. Did you see anything odd during the evening, anyone acting nervous, suspicious?”

“No!” Lindsay answered.

“How about after you left the disco? My college told me you were walking home when you heard the explosion. Did you see anything at all that might be suspicious?”

“A car, I saw a car speeding along the road towards me.”

“What color?”

“I didn’t notice the color.”

“Could you see inside? Could you describe the driver?”

Lindsay thought about it, “Not really dark hair, young, big eyes, scared looking, but I don’t think I’d recognize him again.”

“So it was a man, was he driving or in the passenger seat?”

“Passenger, didn’t see the driver. I think the same car parked outside my flat later. I couldn’t see inside, it was dark, but something tells me it was the same car.”

“Are you sure?” Sargent Whitely asked as he frantically made notes in a small pad.


“Is there anything else?”

“DED 1666”


“The car that raced past me, its number plate was DED 1666.”








Dead of July – A Ghost Story by Sandra Thompson is available on Amazon.


Car Bomb?

march1973-55dea336d78d7508b666ed24d6128c5ed01020cb-s400-c85Lindsay watched the car for a long time. Although she couldn’t see the faces of the passengers, or the registration number, something looked familiar. Why did its presence bother her? Eventually, after making sure the doors to her flat were locked and bolted, she went to bed, but sleep evaded her for a long time. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what had become of her friends. The friends she’d damned all to hell, for leaving her alone again. The friends that may have burned in a fiery hell on the dance floor. Eventually sleep enveloped Lindsay’s mind and body, but not for long. She awoke as the first slither of light pierced the darkness. Opening her eyes, she immediately thought of the horrific explosions and flames. Oh my God, let it be a dream.

Slipping into her robe, Lindsay padded into the living room and peered through the curtains to see if the car with its sleeping occupants was still outside. It was gone. She sighed with relief.

Lindsay switched on the radio. Instead of the music that usually greeted her, two local newsmen talked about the tragedy at the local disco. They talked in low respectful voices. She sat at the kitchen table sipping tea and listening to the sickening news.  No survivors! Surely she’d heard wrong. There were at least fifty people on the dance floor when she left. How could there be no survivors. On automatic pilot, Lindsay made herself a cup of tea and sat back down at the table to drink it. When the phone rang she almost dropped the cup.


“Lindsay, its Pam. Thank God you answered, you were at the disco last night, they said there were no survivors.

Lindsay couldn’t speak. She sobbed down the phone.

“I’m coming to see you right now.”

It was only minutes before the doorbell rang. Pam lived a couple of streets away and was breathless when she arrived. Lindsay, still sobbing, collapsed into her arms.

“What happened?” Pam asked.

“I don’t know. I left early. I was halfway home when I heard the explosion. If I’d still been there…”

“Shhh, you’re safe. Don’t think about what had happened if you’d still been there.”

The radio caught their attention.

News just in points to a car bomb, although no one has taken responsibility. Of course one has to wonder if the IRA were involved because the disco ‘Studio 2’ was close to an army camp. The IRA remains silent.

“The fucking Irish!” Pam said. “I knew they had to be involved, bastards.” She had good reason to hate the Irish since her brother lost both of his legs bombing in a London car bombing.

Car…..Lindsay thought of the car that raced past her after the explosions. Holy shit, the same car that parked outside last night. Could it be involved? She shivered. Should she call the police?

Dead of July is still for sale on Amazon…if you like my blog, give it a try.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Murder and Deceit

Mary Jo walked back to her car and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. She drank what was left, hardly tasting it, while she watched the inferno that was once a trailer. The heat was intense. She could feel it on her face, it felt good.



Half expecting to see two naked burning figures burst out of the door, she waited. There was no sign of her cheating husband and his whore. She hoped they fried in each others arms.

After a few minutes she slid behind the wheel of the car and drove away. It would be a while before emergency vehicles reached the remote burning trailer, but it was better to be safely out-of-the-way before they did.

As she drove away, Billy Bob Thornton blasted from the speakers “I fell into a burning ring of fire.” Mary Jo laughed as she sang along. Someone was burning and it sure as hell wasn’t her.

As she passed the bar were the sordid affair started, she slowed down, should she stop for a drink. Hell yea! She needed an alibi anyway. Mary Jo pulled into the parking lot feeling surprising sober even though she had consumed a full bottle of whiskey. A murderer can sure hold her liquor, she thought and laughed once again. She felt no remorse for what she had done. It eased her pain and heartache.

Mary Jo found a stool at the bar and waited to be served.

She froze as Lucy appeared. “Hi Mary Jo, you here alone?”

“Lucy, hey, I didn’t think you were working tonight,” Mary Jo replied, trying to sound casual.

“Oh yea, I’m working an extra shift. Money’s tight. Had to sell my trailer too. I’m living with my mom for a while. What do you want to drink? Is Rod coming back? ”

“I’ll have a shot of Tequila, want to join me?”

“Sure thanks” Lucy said.

“What do you mean is Rod coming back, was he in earlier?” Mary Jo asked.

“Sure was, he was with your sister, they stopped by for the keys to my trailer. She’s thinking of buying it!”

“Goddamn it”, Mary Jo thought to herself, “whats worse, murdering my sister or knowing she was screwing my husband?” And then she smiled. “It really doesn’t matter does it? They’re both burning in hell now.”

“Lucy, bring the bottle, let’s get drunk.”

“You bet, and what the heck, it’s on the house.”


My new novel ‘Dead of July’ will be released in December.

Dead of July (Small)


“I dug the key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats”

Mary Jo sang along with the Carrie Underwood  song as she drove along the dark winding country road. A bottle of Jim Beam occupied the passenger seat next to her. She chugged from the bottle as she drove, making sure not to spill any. She’s spent her last twenty dollars on it and wanted to enjoy the taste of whiskey while she watched the show. Her private show! Seduction and Revenge! She would have a front seat view.

Ten minutes later she reached her destination and pulled slowly off the road. She drove carefully through the trees until she was sure her car was no longer visible. After taking another gulp of whiskey, she opened the trunk. Mary Jo smiled as she looked at the two full cans of gasoline. She checked her pocket to make sure she still had the lighter, yes it was there.

“You’ll never cheat on my again you bastard” she said as she made her way through the trees to the double wide trailer that was set on an open patch of land. The lights were on and she saw the naked silhouette of her husband of ten years in a passionate embrace with figure of Lucy, the barmaid from his favorite watering hole. She lived alone in the trailer, her den of seduction.


“Bitch, I’ll teach you.” she said as she edged closer,  loosening the top of the gasoline cans as she went. The smell excited her.

She glanced once more at passionate display that stabbed her heart with such ferocity she could barely breathe. Gently she poured gasoline onto the sides of the trailer, making no noise. It dripped onto the dry grass below, perfect. Every few seconds, she stopped and listened. The only sound she heard was that of passion. Sighs and  moans of a cheating husband and his whore.

Angrily she tipped the last of the deadly liquid on the steps by the door. She wanted to make absolutely sure no one escaped.

She set light to a gasoline soaked rag and dropped it onto the steps before standing back to admire her work, watching the flames envelop the trailer. After a couple of minutes she turned her back on the inferno.

“Burn in Hell” she whispered as she walked away.

Do you know how this ends? Stop by next week to see what happens next!

My first novel, ‘Dead of July’ will be released in December. Watch out for it.

Dead of July (Small)

THE ROAD TO HELL! (The end of the Family)

As it grew dark, the rain got heavier.

I looked at the clock on the dashboard. Plenty of time to get to the airport and leave England for good. Good Bloody Riddance to it. It had brought me nothing but grief. Then I laughed, until now, I thought.

I had been back in the country for almost a year, a very rewarding year. I had murdered my nasty greedy brother, and my evil father. It had been a very rewarding year. The best year of my life in fact.

I looked down at the white gloves on the passenger seat of the car. I should get rid of them, I thought, with forensics and things, they may track my father’s death back to me.

I opened the window and threw them out.

I could see the lights of the airport in the distance and longed to be on the Boeing 777 to Rome, leaving this God awful country behind me.

Car crashThe car engine spluttered, I looked at the fuel gauge, over half a tank, so why was it spluttering?

The engine died and I coasted to the side of the road. Great, I was in the middle of nowhere. I grabbed my mobile phone. No signal. Damn.

I started to walk along the road, if I had to hitch a ride to the airport, so be it. I just wanted to get away.

I heard the noise of an engine. A car approached and soon the headlights illuminated the road. I stuck out my thumb, and to my delight and amazement, it pulled over. Without looking at the driver, I got inside. Sitting in the backseat, I opened my purse and without looking up I said.

“I don’t care how much I have to pay you, just get me to the airport”.

I pushed a wad of money towards the driver and then looked up to see why he wasn’t accepting it.

“Oh my good, Jerry, is that you?”

“Hello sister dear.”

“You’re dead, how can this be. Why is the car going so fast? Who’s driving this thing? Dad, what are you doing here? Let me out.”

The two faces continued to grin at Angie as she struggled with the door handle. The speed of the car increased, 70, 80, 90 miles an hour on the dark winding country road.

“Angie dear, we’ll be together forever now.” Jerry said. “Isn’t that why you killed me, so you could be with me.” His manic laugh was ear shattering.

The bony skeletal hand of Angie’s father reached out and touched her, “Can I get that hug now Angie?”

The car veered off the road and into the woods “Noooooooo!” Angie yelled, but it was too late. The car hit a tree and crumpled. She wasn’t wearing a seat belt.

The following morning the police were puzzled. There was no sign of a driver in the wrecked car. Only a dead mangled backseat passenger wearing white cotton gloves. A tragic accident, made even more tragic by the death of the victim’s father earlier that afternoon.


Dead of July (Small)



Committing the Crime (Murder in the Family II)

“Shall I leave you two to talk?” Mrs Robinson asked quietly.

“Yes I’d like that.” I said as I looked at the back of my father, hunched over in his wheelchair “We have a lot of catching up to do.”


I watched the matron walk back into the building before turning around and focusing on the evil old man in the wheelchair. My vision blurred as anger and resentment built up inside me. He didn’t look human, merely a clip from a movie reel. Adrenalin started to flow through my veins as I got ready to kill him.

I walked around the wheelchair, not getting too close, not wanting to smell his old mans stench. This was the man who had caused so much pain to his family, my family. He smelled of evil. Sitting on the bench in front of him I watched and waited.  He was napping. Drool escaped from the corner of his mouth.

Finally he opened his eyes. When he saw me they opened very wide.

“Angie is that you?”

“Yes father it is.”

“You’ve come to see me after all of these years. I dreamed of this day.” he said in his weak old voice.

“No, I don’t think you did.” I replied

“Jerry still comes to see me. Jerry is a fine boy.”

“Jerry’s dead, he doesn’t come to see you.” I said flatly.

“Dead, when did he die?”

“Six months ago. I held a pillow over his head until he stopped breathing. He was evil just like you.”

“No Angie, he was here this morning. Whats wrong with you?” He whined.

I kneeled in front of his wheelchair. He held out his arms to hug me, but I wasn’t looking for a hug, I was looking for revenge.  I placed my gloved hand gently, but firmly over his nose and mouth. My other hand found the back of his head and I held him so  he couldn’t move. He was weak, it wasn’t difficult. I whispered gently in his ear.

“This is for the pain you caused my mother for over twenty years. You broke her heart, but when that wasn’t enough, you broke both arms, her leg and her jaw. You broke my childhood and ruined my life.  You should not have been allowed to live this long.”

He didn’t struggle for long, and slumped over in his chair.

Ahhhhh, that felt so good, I thought to myself as I propped him up, I feel so much better now. Sitting on the bench in front of him, I laughed and chatted as though nothing had happened. Mrs Robinson looked out from the sitting room window and waved. I smiled brightly and waved back.

“How nice that Michael’s daughter came to visit.” she said to one of the residents.

I kissed my dead father on the cheek. “Rot in hell ou old bastard. Death really is too good for you.”

As I walked back to the nursing home, Mrs. Robinson met me. “Oh dear, leaving so soon?” she said.

“Yes my father is tired. I’ve been living abroad so I haven’t seen him for a while, I’ll be back next week though.” I lied.

“Oh lovely, I think he gets lonely. Take care, see you soon.”

Not if I can help it, I thought to myself.  In fact I hope I never see you again. 


Dead of July (Small)

Murder in the Family

Angie walked into the nursing home and was immediately greeted by an old lady with bright blue eyes.

“Hello, have you come to take me home?” she said.

“What?” Angie replied. “I think you have me mixed up with someone else. I’m here to kill my father.”

The old lady walked away, her head drooping in disappointment. “They left me here, no one ever comes to get me.” she said looking over her shoulder one last time. Angie laughed because the old crony had no idea she had just admitted she was about to commit murder.

“Hello, I’m the matron here, sorry Kathy lives in hope of getting out of here. She has run away several times, once in the back of the laundry van.” she said laughing. “She has Alzheimer’s and really has no clue where she is. Can I help you find someone?”

“Yes, you must be Mrs Robinson, we spoke on the phone, I’m Angie.”

“Oh hello, nice to meet you. You are here to see Michael. You are his first visitor in four years. His son used to visit, but I haven’t seen him in a couple of years.”

“My brother died eighteen months ago.” Angie replied as she remembered holding the pillow over her brother’s face until he stopped struggling.

“Oh dear, how sad. Well you are the first family member to visit him in a long time.”

And I may be the last, Angie thought silently.

“Come with me, he is sitting in a wheelchair out in the garden.”

“Does he know I’m coming?” Angie asked.

“Yes he does.” The matron answered, looking away, unable to meet Angie’s eyes. Michael wasn’t a pleasant man and had not wanted his daughter to visit.

They walked out into the garden. A frail old man sat in a wheelchair, his clothes hanging loosely on his wasted body.


“Is he in good health?” Angie asked.

“No, his heart is failing. He is too old for surgery. He could live another five years, or he could die next week.” The matron answered softly.

Or he may die this afternoon. Angie thought to herself.


Dead of July (Small)