Ghosts on the Sand

SandraBookCoverGhostsOnTheSand

I opened my mouth to speak, but something was wrong. My lips wouldn’t move. I couldn’t even swallow. The wrinkled face seemed to be a long way above me. It turned fuzzy and started to fade like an old photo.

What was wrong with me?

It took every ounce of energy I possessed, but I forced myself to speak.

“A lime split and a 99, please,” I whispered. But no one heard me. The ice-cream van had disappeared, leaving me alone on a desolate beach.

Falling to the ground, I gasped for breath. My chest was tight and my head throbbed. The air around me was heavy and oppressive. Except for the drone of a single plane, the world was completely silent.

The sun no longer warmed the earth. It had been replaced with a blanket of darkness.

Where am I?

Watch out for my new compilation of Chilling Tales. Coming soon!
Book cover by the amazing Kara Boulden 

 

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Beautiful and Haunting – Gypsy!

gypsyWednesday passed by with no sign of my mysterious fantasy man. Every time I heard someone kick-start a motorbike my heart missed a beat. It was never him though never the leather clad, cool smoking man! I bought ‘Rock On’ by David Essex, but I should have saved my money because even when I wasn’t playing it I couldn’t get the song out of my head.

Richmond fair opened on Thursday evening. The rides were much cheaper that night.  Everyone called it test pilot night. You rode cheaply, but at your own risk. I didn’t usually visit the fair on test pilot night. Not because I was afraid of dying while testing out the rides, but because I had to get up for work the following day. A night at the fair almost always involved lots of alcohol, greasy food, and a hangover. When I left work on Thursday, I bypassed Richmond Market Place altogether, not wanting to push my way through throngs of ‘test pilots’. I was almost home when I encountered the old wrinkled gypsy again.

“Hey pretty lady, buy some lucky heather.” She said in a husky voice. Her accent was deep and guttural. A true Romany maybe!

Gypsies, with their superstitions and potions, scared me so I opened my handbag and found my purse, hoping I had some change to give her. I grabbed twenty pence, which would do nicely. A cheap way to prevent being cursed!

“Here you go,” I said looking up. I stopped dead in my tracks. The old hag who sold the heather was gone and a beautiful young woman stood in front of me. Was it a trick of the light? Her black curly hair rested on her bare shoulders. Even though she stood still the bells on the bottom of her skirt jingled in the breeze. She shivered and pulled her shawl tightly around her. Her dark searching eyes focused on me. They were hypnotizing. I held out the change I’d pulled from my purse.

Looking at the hauntingly beautiful face I whispered. “For the lucky heather.”

She frowned and opened her mouth to speak. I felt her breath, it smelled like lilies and then she disappeared right in front of my eyes.

The plot thickens, disappearing man and now a gypsy! Stay tuned, my next post will be on the road from Italy. Maybe the Italian air will inspire me. Thanks for stopping by!

My first novel Dead of July is available on Amazon for 0.99.

Brompton on Swale – Where it all Began

Dead of July is my current novel. It was released in December 2013 and I’m proud of it. I’m not Stephen King, but being Sandra Thompson is just as much fun.

I was lucky enough to attend an evening with Stephen King in September 2013. He gave a talk in Boulder Colorado, where he lived when he wrote The Shining. The Shining, of course, is based on the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park. I’ve visited the Stanley Hotel several times. It has a great bar. I could not, however, go anywhere near the elevator. No way, not just because of Stephen King’s book, but because that elevator is seriously haunted. How did I know? Thats another story!

Stephen King’s home is Maine, and he’s proud of it. Although I live in Colorado I was born in County Durham and raised in Brompton-on-Swale, North Yorkshire. My very first novel ‘Guy at the Bar’ was inspired by something that happened while I lived there back in the early seventies. I met a drunken stranger in my local pub. Unfortunately this man decided to follow me home. Have you ever tried running down a back lane in six-inch platforms? It’s not easy believe me. I did manage to escape, but not for long. He came back to haunt me.

I’m currently re-editing ‘Guy at the Bar’, along with my other short story, which is set in Blackpool. Writing is a hobby, which I hope to turn into a retirement career. Who knows, one day I may even make a profit. A girl can dream.

This is where it all started

This is where it all started