The Ghosts are almost ready!

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Ghosts on the Sand is almost ready to publish. Its been in the works for four years because its hard to be a part-time author. Do you like the book cover? I love it and I hope it’s the first of many from Kara Boulden! This book is a collection of four stories.

Ghosts on the Sand is the first story in my new collection. It’s about a young girl (Sheila)  and her mother on holiday in Blackpool. They’re spending time together to heal after escaping a violent, angry man, Sheila’s dad. Things don’t work out quite as planned.
I Love you Neil is a super short story about two brothers. Can’t reveal anymore or I’d spoil the plot.
Guy at the Bar is actually the first story I wrote (in my adult years anyway), and is based on an experience I had in the King William IV pub in Brompton on Swale. I have fond memories of this pub, but this isn’t one of them. It’s a story about a nasty drunk who had no respect for women. (There is a bit of a twist of course)
Camera starts on the road from Richmond to Brompton on Swale (near the turn off to Easby Abbey). A broken down car and a camera swinging on the fence. What could go wrong? You’d be surprised. One of my hobbies is photography, but I hope I never come across a camera like this one.

I really want you to enjoy these stories, and review them on Amazon for me. I’m and “old gal” but I feel my writing career has just begun.

Thank you!

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Old Mother Shipton and Brompton-on-Swale

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I lived in Brompton-on-Swale from 1967 – 1977. My teenage years were spent in this small northern village, and they were good years. I think I had my first alcoholic drink (legally) in the King Bill, which is no longer open for business. “Guy at the Bar” is inspired by events that happened in this public house. It was a scary evening for me, but I survived, and lived to tell the tale. I’m working as hard as I can (while still holding a full-time job) to get this story along with one or two others into a compilation of short stories called “Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales.” Be patient, it’s coming.

“Run while there’s still time!”
“What?”
“You’ll die if you stay here.”
“Die? What are you talking about?”
“The flood, it’s coming.”
“What flood?”

I looked around for approaching waves. “Where’s this water going to come from?”

“You’ll see soon enough. I’m heading for the hills!”
“There’s no water close enough to us to cause a flood.”

Our soon to be ex next-door neighbor, glared at me as though I was the crazy one.
“The river Swale, it’s going to wash the village away. You’ll be sorry if you stay here, mark my words.”
“Don’t listen to her Sheila,” my Mam whispered, “she’s lost her marbles. I’m glad she’s moving out.”
“I can hear what you’re saying. You think I’m not right in the head,” she persisted, “but I’m telling you, the village is doomed.”

My dad joined us
“What’s all this about a flood?” he asked, clearly irritated at the thought of having bought a house in a flood zone.

“Old Mother Shipton. She warned us. The flood is coming, I can feel it.”

My dad laughed, clearly relieved,

“For a minute I thought you were serious. Don’t worry girls; Mother Shipton is a legend in these parts. She lived in a cave in Knaresborough hundreds years ago. Many people believed she was a prophet, but others claimed she was a Witch. I’ll take you to visit the caves if you like. We’ll take a picnic and make a day of it.”

My Mam looked relieved and continued to unload the van.

Brompton-on-Swale

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I’d planned to have this book released by Christmas 2017. I know, it didn’t happen. I love writing so much I don’t have time to publish, and I certainly can’t afford a publisher. Oh well, when it eventually does get released later this year it’s going to be a bargain book for those of you who love England, especially the north-east. The stories packed into this book include;

Ghosts on the Sand (set in Blackpool)
Guy at the Bar (set in Brompton-on-Swale and Richmond)
Camera (set in Brompton-on-Swale and Richmond)
The Engineer (set in a fictitious village in County Durham)

Why are most of my stories set in the North East? Because it’s the best part of England. Northerners are genuine, down to earth and fun!

I was born in Bishop Aukland, lived in Shildon until I was 4 years old. I then fled with my mam to Etherly and Butterknowle to escape my violent dad. Mam finally found a job and house in Summerhouse, county Durham, where we lived until 1967. When she remarried we moved to Brompton-on-Swale, the village that shaped my life. Even though I live in the United States now (well until I retire to Italy), Brompton-on-Swale is on my mind a great deal. I wish I could become a famous writer. If I did I’d make sure to let everyone know where I came from. I’d tell them about that down to earth little village, where everyone knew everyone else and looked out for their neighbors. Many folks were born there and never moved away. They are the lucky ones. My wandering spirit won’t let me stay in one place too long. I pop back every now and again. Yes, it’s changed, but I still think of it as home.

All about me!

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I’m the one in the middle. Always ready to laugh, always ready for fun. As a kid I was ALWAYS in trouble. I turn every situation into a story.

Other than my family, the important things in my life are writing and visiting Italy. I  finally realized my Italian dream and bought a house in the small village of Colledimezzo, which is in the Chieti province of Abruzzo. I’m just as pleased as punch. I have another dream to fulfill now, to make it as a writer.

I’m still working on my next book, “Ghosts on the Sand” and I have one last short story to write before it’s done. Each story is based on events in my past. “Guy at the Bar” is a tongue in cheek thriller based on a man who tried to hit on me back in the seventies while I was having a quiet drink in “The King Bill” which was a pub I frequented in Brompton-on-Swale, where I used to live. “Ghosts on the Sand” was written about five years ago and it is based on my tumultuous childhood. My dad (by blood) was a bully. Mean, lazy and extremely scary. He beat my mam regularly. I have no good memories of him. This story starts after we left him for good. It talks about a little girl who had premonitions. I do still have premonitions, very accurate ones.

There are also two very short stories in this book.They both just popped into my over active brain. “Camera” is total fiction and set in Brompton-on-Swale and Richmond, North Yorkshire. Its a short, fast paced thriller. My editor couldn’t stop reading it, which meant it was edited super fast. I think that’s a good thing. My final story “The Engineer” isn’t written yet, but it is set in Italy. Total fiction and a kind of black comedy.

Hoping to release this novel for public consumption before March. Can’t wait to hear what you all think.

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Camera!

She’d just gotten to the other side of the road when she heard him call.

“Hey, you left your camera in the car.”

“What? That’s not mine.”

“It must be yours. I haven’t picked anyone else up today.” He shoved it into her hand and walked away. The leather strap felt slick, slimy, but worst of all, it felt alive. Lucy shuddered and almost dropped it.

Camera is a bonus short story in my upcoming book “Ghosts on the Sand”. Watch out for it it’s COMING SOON!

The Spirit World – Just keep talking to me!

I was left alone in the darkness. Cold and exhausted I made no effort to move. If Luca materialized again I was done for! The moon had been hiding behind the clouds, but now appeared and cast a dim silvery glow on the earth. I looked around me, but there was nothing to see, no burning trees, no charred remains, nothing.

Was it a dream, a nightmare?

With the little strength I had left, I pushed myself up off the ground and onto my feet.

Ouch!

Something dug into the heel of my hand. I couldn’t really see what it was, but picked it up anyway. A small round shiny object glimmered in the moonlight. I smiled as shook it back and forth. It was a gypsy bell, the sort Mala wore on her skirt.

Headlights rounded the corner ahead of me. Dare I stand in the road and flag the car down? I had no idea where I was. Unable to make a decision, I watched it pass me by, tail lights disappearing in the distance.

Damn, where am I? I should have flagged it down.

Walking along the dark country road, I felt alone, but no longer afraid. Looking up at the stars I wondered what really happened after death. Were Mala and her love together now, forever? I’d never know, well maybe one day I would, but hopefully not for a long time.

Another car approached. It pulled up next to me.

“Hey there, are you alright, what are you doing in the middle of nowhere? Did your car break down?”

Bending down I peered through the open window and saw Liz, the landlady of the village pub in Brompton.

“Hey Liz, no I haven’t broken down, but I’d love a life home.”

“Oh, its you, what the heck are you doing out here? Jump in.”

I sat in the passenger seat of her sporty little MG. Before she pulled away she looked across at me.

“You look awful! Are you sure everything is OK?”

I started to laugh uncontrollably before tears gushed down my face.

“Oh no! It’s not that bloody dead guy again is it? The one you managed to pick up in my pub?”

I pulled myself together.

“No, he doesn’t bother me anymore. I managed to attract a gypsy this time. Actually, three of them, but it’s all over with now. All sorted.”

“I hope you’re right,” Liz said as she pulled away, “but I have a feeling these little adventures are going to be with you your whole life. How old are you?”

“Twenty!”

“Bloody hell, and how many dead people have you attracted, how many spirits have you sent on their way?”

I thought about it for a while before answering.

“Only two Liz, a couple are still hanging around, but they’re good company.”

If you want to read more about this budding ‘Ghost Whisperer’s’ adventures, keep following my blog. Dead of July, my first book, is currently available on Amazon for $0.99. I’m also working on two more short stories, which are both set in the North of England. One in Blackpool and the other in Brompton on Swale. Brompton is a small sleepy village in North Yorkshire. It’s the village where I spent most of my childhood. Writing is my passion and one day may become my retirement career. Everyone has to start somewhere. 

Thanks for stopping by.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Barely Breathing!

flames_88__inferno_by_eris_stock“It looks to me like you’ll never have her.” I whispered. “I think the old hag has you beaten. She’s kept you away from her daughter for a long time now. Maybe it was never meant to be.”

I moved closer to him, the smell of his body was overpowering. He hadn’t breathed for a long time, but hot putrid air surrounded him.

Distract him; take his focus away from Mala. Give me a chance to set them free.

I heard her thoughts, what if Luca heard them too?

I looked into his eyes and smiled, it took all of my courage and energy, but I was convincing.

What if he kills me, what then?

He looked down at me, fascinated. “You’re awfully brave! How can this be? I usually have to fight to get my pleasure. Why aren’t you fighting?”

I was terrified, barely breathing, but something spurred me to play his game. You’re doing great, keep his focus. It’s working.

“Maybe I’m tired of life.” I said, my voice sounding stronger than I felt. “I get up and go to work every morning, but for what? Its time for a different, more exciting life. Tell me what you have to offer?”

The creatures behind him gathered close together as they watched me.

“You can ride the night skies with me” he asked. “You  can look down at the world of pathetic humans and see them, like ants, running around as they live out their futile lives?”

He moved closer to me, our bodies merged. I was terrified.

Although his hands didn’t move, I felt violated; I knew his intentions and felt him touch me.

“Ahh, lets play a while.” He said.

I have him, please do what you need to do and then help me.

My fear spiraled out of control. I was completely enveloped by evil. Terror paralyzed my body.

I’m dying! Help me!

The life was being sucked out of me. I was lost!

I’m barely breathing. Help me!

I was vaguely aware of a light, a light that grew slowly stronger and sent wispy branches shooting off towards the sky as the poor creatures that had been held captive escaped. Behind me I heard bells. The sort of bells you associated with Christmas, heralding the arrival of happiness.

I knew these weren’t Christmas bells, but Romany bells and I smiled. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have smiled.

“You witch, you sorceress, you temptress. I’m going to squeeze the life out of you now.”

I looked up to see his face. I’d fooled him for a while and and he was full of lust for a live willing body. Something I wasn’t prepared to give and he knew that now.

He tossed me aside like a doll. I hit the ground hard, knocked senseless for a few seconds. When I opened my eyes I saw the old gypsy, she chanted and danced in a circle around the smoking man and his Romany love. They were wrapped in tender embrace for the first time since death claimed them. They faded to nothing, poof, gone.

“You old witch, you’ll pay for this.”

God please let him not be talking to me; I have no fight left in me.

I looked at the distorted face of evil and saw him focus on the old Gypsy. She smiled. “Come on then, make me pay, I’m old and fragile, but I beat you at your own game. You can take my life now, but you can’t touch my daughter anymore. You can’t go to the place she is now. She’s safe from you, safe forever!”

He was on her in less than a second. Moving around her, his face contorted in anger. She didn’t budge, but stood her ground and smiled. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t move.

“Please leave her alone.” I whispered, but no one heard.

It’s all right; I’m ready to die. I’m old!

She put her arms out and started to chant again. I watched the evil presence of Luca shrink slightly. He became still. He looked confused, unsure of himself. The old gypsy’s head snapped back. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth and inhaled deeply.

Noooooooo!

The awful shape of evil disappeared into her mouth and down her throat. When there was nothing of him left her lips snapped shut and she exploded into a fiery mass. I saw them fighting in the flames, but he was lost, no match for a cunning old gypsy. His evil was no match for her love.

I watched until there was nothing left but calm.

Evil Dead!

evil faceThe silence didn’t last long. A strong wind blew. It was icy cold. A weak, fading glow danced in the darkness. The tinkling bells grew silent. I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what!

“Lucky Heather?”

The voice was close to my ear. I turned quickly, expecting to see another restless spirit, but instead I came face-to-face with the old Gypsy I’d seen a couple of days earlier. I touched her wrinkled cheek. It was warm. She was real. She grinned a toothless grin and pushed a sprig of purple heather into my hand. My skin tingled at its touch. I remembered the heather that filled my living room a few days earlier.

Was she trying to help me?

Looking into her eyes, I saw strength, and wisdom. I looked back at the fading glow of the young gypsy girl and my heart began to ache.

“Don’t go!” I pleaded in a voice that didn’t sound like mine.

The smoking man appeared behind her, reaching out his arms, trying to hold her, but she was barely visible.

Laughter bubbled from behind me. It was nasty and malevolent. I turned around almost losing my balance, and looked upon pure evil, in the form of a man. Horns were all he needed to make him look like the devil itself. I knew he was long dead, I could see it in his eyes, but he looked strong. The smirk on his face was terrifying.

“You can’t help them, they’re my playthings.”

I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn’t open.

His laughter surrounded me.

“Every year they suffer. It’s what they deserve. He took her from me. He took her from the Romany way of life. Stole her. Common thief that he is.” He spat on the ground. The grass died around him and the air turned putrid. “I’m going to take you too. Every year I add a wonton creature like yourself to my collection. Young girls who fall under his spell, all too stupid to resist his pathetic charms. I get them all in the end.”

There was movement behind him. A dozen or more young girls huddled together. Some naked, all unhappy! Snatched from life and made to suffer by this evil, restless spirit. I didn’t want to be one of them.

“Why do you want me? Let me go. What good can I do?” I whispered, trying to sound brave.

“I don’t want you, I didn’t want any of these pathetic creatures,” as he spoke he turned around. They all cowered away from him. Could he still hurt them in death?

“I want her! I’ll give them all to him, in exchange for her. ”

I looked back at the fading light that was the beautiful young gypsy girl. I could barely see her now.

Another voice came from the darkness. I’d forgotten about the old woman.

“She’ll never be yours Luca. She didn’t love you.”

Her voice brought a look of fury to the ugly face. A bird fell to the ground at his feet.

“I didn’t want her love. I wanted her body! Love is nothing. I needed her beside me to bear my children.” His voice boomed like thunder. He smiled an awful smile and licked his lips, “I wanted to play with her a little too.”

“People like you should never be allowed to breed. If you’d given her a child it would have died in her womb.” The old girl cackled. Her voice was strong.

“I’d have torn it from her body before that happened.”

More birds fell to the ground behind him. I could smell fire. Maybe it was the fires of Hell. Somewhere close by a tree fell smoldering to the ground.

The heather I held tightly in my hand became so warm I wanted to drop it.

A voice from deep within my head whispered to me.

Make him angry now. Distract him! Let Mala escape. Let him focus his anger on you and me.

“I’m scared.” I answered. “He’ll kill me!”

A pain ripped through my skull.

“Be quiet you old Hag, I hear you”

 

Dead or Alive – she’s mine!

headlight in the darknessThe temperature dropped. Icy fingers tightened their grip on my heart.

“You’ll never have her. You couldn’t have her in life and she’s not yours in death. She was promised to me. She’s mine.”

Surely they’re not talking about me! I strained my eyes trying to see through the darkness. It was thick and dense, a black fog.

“You killed her!” The voice was harsh, evil.

“No, you did, you killed her when you messed with my brakes. You ended her life.” This voice was full of sadness and love.”

“You should have died alone. You took what was mine.” The evil voice boomed through the darkness. It scared me.

“Mala wasn’t a possession. She didn’t love you.” It was almost a whisper.

The darkness was penetrated by the sound of a horn. It was loud. Rushing towards me.

A single beam of light pierced the darkness from another direction.

A truck roared towards the crossroads. Oh God, slow down, won’t someone slow down. Screeching brakes and burning rubber filled the air.

The truck tried to stop.

The motorcycle swerved.

For a fleeting moment I saw the face of the beautiful gypsy girl riding behind the smoking man. She closed her eyes, and hugged him tight.

Her lips moved, “I love you.” I wondered if he heard.

The impact was deadly.

Then there was silence.

“Why am I here?”

The sound of my voice hung in the darkness.