Cindy sat up in bed, she was sweating and gasping for breath. She looked around disoriented.

“Where am I?”

And then she remembered, and began to cry.

In situations like this she would talk to her cats, but one was dead and the other missing. She couldn’t talk to her dead husband because the last time she saw him he looked like a scarecrow version of Freddie Kruger. What could she do? Last night she’d had a nightmare, that was the only explanation for what she saw. It horrified her though.

“Dear lord help me escape from Kansas.” she prayed as she swung her legs off the bed.

I think I’ve lost my passion for storm chasing, she said to herself. She padded into the kitchen to start of some coffee, when there was a knock at the door. Cindy froze, almost afraid to answer.

“Hello, is anybody there?” shouted a normal sounding voice.

Pulling her robe tightly around her, Cindy opened the door to a jolly chubby lady.

“Oh sorry, I’m an earlier riser, I disturbed you. I’ll some back later.”

“No please come in, won’t you have some coffee with me.”

“Well if you insist” said the visitor, holding a pie out in front of her. “How about apple pie to go with it?”

Cindy made coffee while listening to the cheerful chatter of her visitor. She turned around to put the cups on the table and screamed, dropping them on the floor, scalding her legs as she did so.

“Oh dear god this can’t be happening.” she said as she looked a the painted face of a scarecrow sitting at the kitchen table.

Scarecrow face


“Am I having a nervous breakdown?” she asked herself.

Her visitor didn’t move, just sat at the table smiling.

Cindy picked up her phone and dialed 911, not knowing if she needed and ambulance or the police. No one answered. How could that be?

The scarecrow sitting at the table stood up and floated towards her, arms outstretched. Cindy fled, snatching the car keys off the counter top as she went. She didn’t look a the back yard for fear of what waited for her there?

She opened the car door and thrust the keys in the ignition. Thank god, it started first time. She reversed out of the garage, not looking behind her, not seeing what bounced off her car and crunched under her wheels. She didn’t want to know. She just wanted to get away.


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Watch out for my first novel ‘Dead of July’, which will be published for human consumption in the fall.

Dead of July (Small)[4] Color 1


Saturday Darkness

I woke up suddenly gasping for breath. Was I late for work? I pulled my thoughts together and realized it was Saturday. Darkness still enveloped the room so I tried to drift back into sleep, but sleep eluded me. I was wide awake in the darkness. Something was wrong. I cold feel danger. I sensed that I was not alone. Slowly I slid out of bed, hardly daring to breathe, and looked out of the window.


Something glowed in the mist. Low deep sounds reached my ears. Unexplainable noises I didn’t recognize. Noises that sounded like conversations between some strange beings. Was my overactive imagination getting the better of me again? Something I couldn’t make out slithered quickly across the ground, disturbing the mist. Another sound, hollow and echoing terrified me and I jumped back into bed, burying my head deeply under the covers.

The house was silent and still so I plucked up courage to look. Oh God who is that? Standing in the doorway was a tall dark shadow, reminding me of the dark man from a Stephen King novel. Was I dreaming?


The figure was still and silent. I froze, too scared to breathe. Who was he and how did he get here? Nebulous images swirled around his feet, but he remain still.

I prayed silently as I held my breath. I needed to breath. My oxygen starved brain was playing tricks with me as I watched the mist creep across the ceiling, eye looking down at me hungrily.

Why did I take my eyes off the shape in the doorway, the shape that was now standing beside my bed, leaning over me. No breath came from his thin dark lips as his face came close to mine. His eyes blinked open, red evil eyes that reflected the fires of hell.

I didn’t have time to scream. There was no one to hear me anyway.

I hope you enjoyed my burst of imagination, every once in a while, I have to write a very short story to make room for new ones to form in the dark place at the back of my brain. Headaches persist if I don’t open the door and allow these to escape. 

Check out my first short story – rough around the edges, but it got some good reviews. 

In July, my first full length novel ‘Dead of July’ will be released. It is currently with my editor Amy Eye, who is doing a fabulous job of  turning it into a first class read.

If you enjoyed this short story Follow me on Facebook and if you do visit my page, it would be lovely if you hit the ‘like’ button. I am trying to get as many followers as possible so help a new author feel famous.

Thanks for Stopping by!

Bus ride or FREAK SHOW?

I was the only passenger on the bus and was more than a little worried. My driver looked like Adolf Hitler and was driving at what felt like the speed of light. Not sure what to do, I clung on to the seat in front of me and prayed. It didn’t work. Was this the midnight express to hell?


I heard a noise from above me and watched the roof peel away to reveal a terrible sky. A sky that looked like an evil face grinning down at me with a mouth that could open at any moment and swallow me whole.

Were we flying or was the sky bearing down on me?

I crouched on the floor between the seats and made myself as small as I could. Like an ostrich hiding its head, I hoped I had become invisible.

Low laughter rumbled in the clouds, mocking me. The bus stopped abruptly and I heard the doors open! Frozen with fear I remained on the floor awaiting my fate.

The bus pulled away again. Heavy footsteps slowly approached my hiding place.

Something touched my shoulder. I daren’t look. I could feel warm breath on the back of my neck. My imagination was on overdrive as I expected the worst.

“The Circus is in town” said a voice close to my ear.


I looked up to see a clown looking down at me. I screamed! I hated clowns.

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Friday 13th. The last bus home.

There were rarely more than six people on the 11 pm bus from town to the small village in which I lived. I often wondered why it still ran, but I was happy it did because the cost of a taxi would have prevented me from enjoying my Friday night in town with my friends. Yes I had a car, but I liked a drink on a Friday night and I was too fond of living to drive home drunk.

The drivers got to know those of us who traveled on the late night bus, which was comforting, as we were prone to falling asleep. If this happened the friendly driver would wake us up when we reached our stop.

On Friday May 13th I tripped over my skirt as I stepped onto the last bus home, almost falling on my knees. I saved myself at the last-minute and looked up at the driver, laughing. I was expecting to see Gerry’s face smiling back at me, always ready to crack a joke. Gerry was usually the late night driver on a Friday. Instead looking back at me was a stern, pale skinny face of a man who looked like Adolf Hitler. He wasn’t laughing.

“Fare please.Hurry along now.” he said.

I looked behind me, wondering why I had to hurry. “Come along we haven’t got all night.” he added.

I was the only person getting on the bus, so what was the hurry? I put my money on the little black counter and waited for my change. Adolf gave me a ticket, but no change. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Instead of sitting at the front of the bus as I usually did, I went right to the back. I didn’t want to pass the time by chatting to this driver and I am pretty sure the feeling was mutual. 

I looked at my watch, it was almost eleven. Was I going to be the only passenger? I really didn’t want to be on the bus alone with this man. Something about him was disturbing. I thought about getting off, but how would I get home? I had no money for a taxi.

The doors of the bus closed and we pulled away so fast that my head hit the back window.

As we waited for the lights to turn to green, allowing us to pull onto the main road Gerry’s face appeared. He was driving another bus, which was pulling up beside us. I looked at the handful of passengers and saw some familiar faces. I banged on the window scared, knowing something was wrong, but they were there for a moment and then they were gone as Adolf accelerated into the night.

I had a feeling I was on a bus ride to hell!

I am amusing myself by blogging short stories as I work with my editor to finish my novel ‘Dead of July’.

(Preview) Dead of July

I also have two short stories available for a little while longer on Amazon. They are my first published works, and I have recieved some great reviews. These stories are very special to me, and early next year, I am going to have my new editor review them, after which I will re-launch them in a book of short stories. I have a lot of work ahead of me.

Girl on the Beach (UK)

Girl on the Beach (US)

Guy at the Bar Amazon

Guy at the Bar Amazon UK

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