Love you to DEATH!

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Jean’s spirit hovered behind her cheating husband she was mad as hell! His naked mistress sat up and raised her glass. Bill undid his belt and stepped out of his trousers, he shed the rest of his clothes as he approached the bed. Spirits shouldn’t feel pain, it should be wiped away with death. Why does this hurt so much!
“Turn it into anger, use it now!”
Jean didn’t know where the voice came from, or if it was just a thought floating through her head, but she acted on it.
Bill and Sofia fueled her anger. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, writhing in passion. Sofia purred and whispered in his ear in Russian, a language he didn’t understand, but it turned him on.
“I’m going to Love you to Death!” he said, his voice of lust. There was no love in his greedy mind. He didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Love you to death, love you to death, love you to DEATH!
Jean’s face fixed in a bitter smile as she looked at the candles that lit the room. Focusing on those at the foot of the bed, she toppled them. One or two were extinguished as the fell, but the rest stayed alight. They found fuel on the carpet and flames burned hungrily. Soon the carpet was ablaze.
The flames were low and spread unnoticed! Jean smiled as Bill’s discarded clothes caught fire.

“You don’t need to watch this.”

Finding herself on a grassy bank in the park across from the hotel, Jean watched the fire engines arrive, along with a couple of ambulance and police cars. The fire was soon extinguished. Hotel guests were brought outside, some coughing smoke and soot from their lungs. She hoped no one but Bill was hurt. A satisfied smile crossed her face when she saw the gurney wheeled out, the shape that it carried was completely covered. He was dead!

But he wasn’t, she still felt him, why did she feel his life?

Bill followed the gurney, supported by two firefighters. He sat on the steps and coughed.

Quick as a flash, Jean was in front of him. His face was sooty, but he was unharmed. Sitting on the steps, a hotel robe covering his naked lustful body, he was alive. Her anger turned white-hot. He looked in her direction and smiled.

Can he see me?

Sofia, his rich mistress was dead. Her jewelry and spare cash were stuffed in his robe, along with her credit cards and the keys to her Alfa Romeo! He smiled.

“Time to move on!”

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Red Hot!

 

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As they approached the hotel Jean’s anger flared. Her aura was red-hot. She felt it and worried that Bill would see her. He glanced in his rear-view mirror, a confused look on his face, as if something were wrong. Tugging at his tie, he loosened it and undid the top button of his shirt.
Perspiration prickled his face.
Jean smiled. He couldn’t see her, but she knew he felt her. The sweet little Catholic girl was going to release a world of pain on this man.
Bill wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket and switched on the AC.
With one glance Jean switched it off again.
Bill punched the button again, she left it on for thirty seconds, and then smiled and switched it off.
“Goddamn fucking AC, maybe I should have gotten the BMW after all”
Jean smiled and switched on the heating. Her aura calmed, she was no longer red-hot, but Bill was!
Driving erratically, he ran a red light, almost hitting two pedestrians.
“Shit, shit, SHIT!”
He slowed down a little.
“The last thing I need right now is another death!”
Then he smiled and relaxed a little. Jean hadn’t been rich, but they had a house together with at least $200,000 in equity. Jean’s parents had given them a chunk of money as a wedding present. Then there was the jewelry! He’d make a tidy sum when he sold that. He opened the car windows and breathed deeply. In the back of the car, Jean’s aura was red again. She could hear his thoughts. Closing her eyes she resisted the urge to kill him. She moved effortlessly into the passenger seat and remembered how she’d loved sitting next to him in the car. He’d slip his hand onto her knee and stroke her inner thigh while the drove. She shivered as she remembered…but the moment soon passed!
How long did it take for you to tire of me Bill? Did you ever really love me?
Bill pulled into the hotel parking lot. His head was full of his mistress, and her money. Parking the car, he walked quickly into the hotel lobby and climbed the stairs two at a time. Anticipating the rest of the afternoon, Bill was already aroused. Money and sex did that to him. He opened the door. The drapes were closed and scented candles burned. The room smelled of roses, and expensive perfume. Bill was right about the champagne, but wrong about her skimpy expensive attire.

Sofia was naked!

Revenge!

 

 

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Bill hugged Jean’s family as though he meant it, putting on a good show for the mourners. He hadn’t wanted Jean dead, but he hadn’t wanted Jean anymore, the novelty had worn off, he was moving on. Death, although not planned, did make their marriage final. Tied up loose ends. Lissa, his new girlfriend, was rich and beautiful. Ten years older than him, but that was a good thing. It made her more desperate, willing to give him things. He could make this one last a while. Long enough to take her money anyway!
“Will you come back to the house with us Bill? It’s only going to be a small gathering. Close family?” Jean’s mum asked.
“No! I just want to be alone with my memories.”
Bill wiped his eyes, there were no tears there, but he looked convincing. Lori studied his handsome face. She didn’t see evidence of sleepless nights or tears. His eyes weren’t bloodshot from crying. In fact he didn’t look sad at all. She was suspicious.
“Our family will expect to see you there” she said, “They’ll worry about you if you don’t show up.”
Lori’s dad spoke up. “Leave him Lori. Bill, I’ll call you during the week. Maybe we can get together.”
“Yes, let’s do that!” Bill turned and walked away, just a little too quickly, looking at his watch. He knew Lissa would be waiting for him in the hotel room. She’d be wearing something expensive that exposed lots of skin. A bottle of champagne would be sitting in a bucket of ice next to the bed. She was an adventurous lover, which made her quite irresistible.
How long can I respectfully wait to re-marry?
With that thought in his head he jumped into his red Audit TT. The one Lori helped him choose, but Lissa paid for. Life was good, or so he thought. He didn’t know he had a passenger. His dead wife sat unseen in the back seat.
Your days are numbered Bill! I could kill you right now, but I want to see you suffer!

You’ll be Sorry!

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A small group of mourners left the graveyard. Jean’s parents, her sister and her husband. The look on her parents face was that of grief and raw disbelief. They clung to each other, tears streaming down their tired faces. Lori, her sister was sad and confused. Bill, her husband, wore a mask of guilt.
“I’m so sorry!” he said as they walked away.
No you’re not sorry now, but you will be!
Jean was raised a catholic, suicide was not tolerated, yet her lifeless body lay in a wooden box in the ground. Overdose! Shame to the family! She wasn’t at rest though, she crouched in the shadows watching. Bill looked sorry, but it was for show, for the funeral, for the family. His girlfriend waited for him in a hotel close by. Jean knew the place well, she’d followed him there a week ago.
Watched them through the window, saw them leave the restaurant and get into the elevator. Jean approached the front desk and asked for a spare key, said she couldn’t remember the room, but her husband was waiting for her. Gave her name.
“Ah yes, Mr. Richardson, room 102”
She mounted the stairs and stood listening outside the bedroom door. She heard their sighs, whispers, moans.
Opening the door she stood and watched.
Naked bodies so absorbed in love-making they didn’t notice her.
She fled, Bill was her whole life, she was pregnant with his child. Barely able to see though her tears, she drove home.

A bottle of Riesling and a thirty sleeping pills did the trick. Death came quickly and she was thankful, but it wasn’t over.

Hiding in the bushes by the graveyard Jean’s was no longer asleep. Her troubled spirit angry, and it wanted revenge!

Green Eyed Monster

jealousy

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!”

Let me die along with my friends!

BodyLindsay hung onto the branch for dear life waiting for the mayhem to stop. Her ears were ringing as though someone had sounded a tuning fork in her head. She was hit in the face by an object she didn’t see coming. Blood dripped into her eyes but she felt no pain. Dear God let this be over. She thought about letting go, ending it all. The sole survivor of the hellish fire, she wanted to die. Death must be better than this!

“Who’s there?” Lindsay asked, feeling she wasn’t alone. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled and she felt a chill running down her spine. Her hands slipped a little and her toes hit the cold water.

Just let go Lindsay, join your friends. You deserve to be with them. You’re as guilty as they are. You bloody English thing you own the world.”

“What?” Lindsay looked up and saw a shadowy figure standing above her on the path. It was Colleen. Her terrible beautiful face was contorted in pain and anger, her dress red with blood. A shadowy figure formed by her side.

“Come on Patrick, let’s go now. There’s nothing for us here!”

Patrick? The shadows faded, merged with the breeze. Back on the water, shapes appeared, a shoe floated past, part of a backpack, a plastic bag, a glove with something trailing out of it.

Oh God, there’s a hand in there.

“Help, can somebody help me.” Lindsay shouted.

She was surrounded by silence, but not for long. Voices approached, shouting in panic, followed by footsteps.

“Lindsay, hang on. Bill, Steve, make a human chain get her off that branch, it’s not going to hold much longer.”

She looked up to see Barbara and two other police officers. They were reaching down to her.

“Take my hand love.”

Lindsay obeyed, but daren’t let go of the branch.

“I’ve got you. You can trust me.”

She did as she was told and felt herself being pulled to safety.  She collapsed weakly to the ground and looked back towards the river. The glove had floated out of sight. A human shape had taken its place. It floated lifelessly, face down in the deep dark water.

Patrick? Could that be him? Is he with his sister now? For a moment no one moved.

One of the Police Officers sprung into action, pulling off his shoes and jacket. “I’m going in, I’m a strong swimmer.” He plunged into the cold water and made short work of reaching the shape, pulling it easily to dry land. Lindsay was aware of a gathering crowd, some of whom helped pull the lifeless body out of the river.

A woman pushed her way through the crowd. “I’m a nurse”, she said and tried in vain to resuscitate the man. Someone else bound the stump of his arm, where his hand used to be.

Lindsay knew it was too late. Patrick had joined his sister.

“Who is this, do you know him?” Barbara asked.

Lindsay opened her mouth to speak, but screamed instead. A second shape appeared in the water. It was Michael!

Oh the stories that rattle around in my brain. Check out my first novel Dead of July is available on Amazon for $0.99. Give it a try. 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

 

 

Fear the Dead

MooreC290724“Colleen?” Lindsay said, “This has something to do with you?”

Oh Michael, she’s bringing trouble to you? Leave her now. Where’s my Johnny boy? Where is he then? Johnny, save your brother, Michael strays.

“In the name of God leave us be, go away, nothing good can come of this. You’re a good Catholic Colleen, rest now.”

I’ll rest when I’m done Michael; there are lives to be paid for.

The room warmed up and the shadows shrank back into the corners. Lindsay was curled up in a ball, her head in her hands. When the impossible conversation stopped she looked up.

“What the hell was all that about. Did your brother start the bloody fire? Did he murder my friends? Am I imagining it or were you talking to the dead? I’m going crazy I have to be. Get out now.”

“Put your shoes on, let’s go for a walk.”

“No I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to be around you. How can I trust you? Who the hell is Colleen and why do I hear her voice in my house?”

“Lindsay, put your shoes on, lets walk. I don’t want to talk here inside. Lets walk.”

Lindsay reluctantly got up and found her shoes.

“Is there somewhere quiet we can walk, away from the roads and people?”

“I’m not sure I want to be alone with you, I feel safer with people around. Maybe you’re here to finish the job. I’m the only survivor.”

“I don’t want to hurt you Lindsay, I just don’t want to bring you anymore trouble. I love my brother, but I don’t want him to see us together. He’s not fond of the English.”

“Oh, great!” Lindsay said, “Lets walk by the river, you’re not likely to push me in are you?”

“No I’m not.”

They left through the back door and crossed the playing fields. A group of teenagers were kicking a ball around, football practice, but no one paid them any attention, or so they thought. Neither of them saw Michael’s brother Johnny. His green pants and sweater merged in with the hedgerow. He watched them walk towards the river.

Dammit, he thought, another soul lost to the unbelievers. My own brother!

You know what to do Johnny boy, take care of it.

Dead of July my first novel is about a young British Army wife and the trouble she got herself into in Germany in the early eighties. In that story she got into trouble with the Russians, not the Irish. Give it a try.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

 

Revenge

“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.

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“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)