I sat on the bed in our empty flat and cried. I was five months pregnant and my emotions now affected the precious bundle I carried. When I cried it moved around inside me, letting me know it didn’t like that state of affairs. I hugged my stomach.
“Sorry, I’ll be brave, I just don’t want your daddy to be away for a month. I don’t want to be alone.”
But I’m not alone am I baby Thompson? I have you!
Then I heard a voice as plain as can be, “And you have me.” The voice had a strong Russian accent, it was cold and menacing.
“Stop, you can’t hurt me, you’re dead! Go away and leave me and my baby alone.”
This is an extract from a book I’m currently working on. It’s the sequel to Dead of July, my first novel. Ghosts on the Sand is a collection of short stories. I love to write, and I’d love you to read, and enjoy my stories.
Dead of July
Ghosts on the Sand
You know when you wake up and something’s just not right? Was it a nightmare? It felt way too real!
Jess woke up with a start. disoriented! His mind was foggy! Sunlight streamed though the crack in the curtains.
Where am I?
“Jess, Jess, wake up!”
“What? Where am I?”
The door opened a smidge and Ralph’s face appeared.
“What do you mean “where am I?” you’re in bed,” and its way too late to be sleeping. I’ve packed food and pop, we’re going for a walk remember.”
Jess swung his legs out of bed, but didn’t stand up right away.
“I had a nightmare! It seemed so real. I was scared.”
“C’mon, let’s go, we all have nightmares. I’ll wait for you downstairs, your mom just went to work. She said make sure to lock the front door on your way out and leave the key under the kennel.”
It was too real to be a nightmare!
Jess washed and dressed quickly and then joined his new friend downstairs. It was his second week in Colorado, they’d moved there with his dad’s job. Funny really as his dad was still in London, selling their house. His mum had managed to get a transfer with her company, so the move was smooth. Jess had the summer off to explore before he started school. Ralph, his new friend was cool, and fun, reminded him of one of the characters in the movie Goonies. Everyone he’s met in Colorado reminded him of a movie character. It was the Hollywood effect. Jess locked his door on the way out, and put the key under the kennel. One day, they may even get a dog to occupy it, and guard the key.
“Where are we going today Ralph?”
“I’m going to take you along the old railway line, show you some of the old Gold Mines. They’re haunted, I hope you’re not a cry baby.”
“Cool, as long as we don’t have to go in any tunnels, I don’t like tunnels!”
“Hey Man, no more climbing, let’s go through the tunnel”
“I don’t like tunnels?”
“We’ll run all of the way, won’t take us more than five minutes.”
“I don’t like tunnels!”
“If we climb the hill It’ll take us all day, and it doesn’t look safe, come on.”
Ralph headsed to the entrance and began to jog, not easy for him, he hated exercise. Jess followed reluctantly.
“Wait for me, don’t leave me alone, I really don’t like tunnels.”
Ralph soon slowed to a fast walk, jogging tired him quickly.
“C’mon Ralph, I don’t like it in here!”
Ralph picked up the pace and walked a little faster, but couldn’t jog.
“I’m coming, hold up.”
Jess waited for him.
“We’re not getting any closer to the other end, we should go back, I don’t like this.”
Ralph turned, “We’ve come a long way, we’re exactly in the middle, look”
Jess turned around, they were indeed an equal distance from either side. They kept going, focusing on the light ahead of them, the light that never got any closer. The light that seemed to get smaller.
“Ralph, I’m scared.”
His friend Ralph didn’t answer, Jess turned around.
“Come on, let’s go back.”
Ralph was gone!
Dead Of July
Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales
I do love to write! Ghosts on the Sand, my latest book, is available on Amazon. It’s a compilation of short stories. The sequel to my first novel “Dead of July” will be available at the end of this year. Its called Lingering Evil, watch out for it.
My car stopped at a precarious angle. I daren’t move! Had I slid towards the canal? I couldn’t tell. All I could see from the driver’s side window was snow, deep thick snow. The passenger side widow looked up towards the sky, soon to be covered with thick snowflakes. My only escape was through that window, but if I moved my car would surely slide into the cold water that could be inches away. My engine had stalled and bitter cold seeped into the car, freezing my breath as it hung in the air.
Movement, the car shuddered. I braced myself for action. Not sure what I’d have to do to fight for my life, but I was ready!
What happened next defied gravity. The car move slowly and gently, but not down the hill as it should, instead it glided up towards the road again, almost floating! I sat still as it leveled out, waiting for someone from a tow truck to come and tap on my window, but no one appeared. Putting my hand on the door handle, I made to get out and thank whoever had saved me, but before I had chance the car moved forward. How could that be?
Straining my eyes I saw a light ahead, muffled by the snow, but still a warm glow. For a split second it brought me comfort, and then I worried what it was.
Did I die?
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.
The King Bill was a friendly welcoming place where all the locals hung out. It was an old stone building with big bay windows, low ceilings, and whitewashed walls. During the cold winter months, a fire burned in the bar and another in the snug. The snug was a small room where the women would gather and enjoy catching up with the latest gossip. With its comfy chairs and carpeted floor, it was a home away from home
My disturbing encounter in the King Bill happened on a Saturday night in spring of 1975. It was almost closing time. I sat alone on a tall bar stool enjoying a quiet drink, when I heard a noise in the hallway by the front door.
“Are you all right, mate?” an unseen voice asked.
“Stupid damn doormat.”
At that point a stranger entered, brushing himself down. Based on his comment, he’d fallen as he came through the door from the street. He made himself comfortable on the stool next to mine, and ordered a pint of bitter with a whiskey chaser. Liz, the landlady and owner of the pub, was serving behind the bar, and was about to call last orders, so he was lucky to get a drink at all.
He was a tall, skinny man—gangly, almost—with a mop of unruly, dark curly hair. A pair of very thick heavy spectacles covered most of his face. The lenses magnified his eyes, making them look huge and out of proportion. He downed half of his pint in one gulp, wiped the froth from his mouth, and then drank his whiskey. He turned to me with a silly drunken smile on his face.
Sonia’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She cut me off mid-sentence and in a high-pitched voice that hurt my ears, she yelled,
“Your mam was in Blackpool with her fancy man, and you were there, too. Your mam is nothing but an old tart!”
Although I was only seven, I knew exactly what an old tart was.
Gripping my brown leather satchel tightly, I used all my strength, and swung it toward her. It was heavy with my reading books and the remaining sticks of Blackpool rock, and it flew through the air like a missile, whacking the side of her face. My anger gave me strength I didn’t know I had, and when it made contact with her head, her eyes rolled back and she sank to the ground, where she lay like a beached whale.
Yes, I write about ghosts and haunting, but I am who I am and every story has a little “ME” in it. That means there is a lot of truth and a little humor. Hope you enjoyed this small excerpt from Ghosts on the Sand, a story about a young girl who sees ghost and has unwelcome premonitions.
Watch out for “Ghosts on the Sand and other chilling tales” coming out soon on Amazon.
I’d almost given up on myself. I love to write, been doing it since I started High School. I wrote when I was unhappy. I wrote when I was happy. So much in my head! I’ve only published one novel I’m proud to admit is mine. It’s never going to be on the best seller list, but I’m not ashamed of it. It was my introduction to publishing.
Dead of July – Amazon
I have three more stories finished and ready to put into a compilation, “Ghosts on the Sand and other Chilling Tales”. Whats holding me up? My last story “The Engineer”. This story started with nothing but a title floating around in my head. At first it was set in Northern Italy, but it moved across Europe to North Yorkshire, before getting lost in my brain. The Engineer is back now, struggling to be free, hammering at my temples, scratching the back of my eyeballs, fighting his way out. I need to get his story finished before he finishes me. I’ve heard he drinks blood!
“Roberto is that wild garlic?” Mum asked, looking at the white pungent bunch of flowers he held.
“Yes, Phoebe, it is, I picked them along the path by the river on the way here.”
He turned around to look directly at me menacingly.
“I hear it keeps vampires away!”
He smiled at me hungrily licking his lips, which were no longer dark against his perfect milky skin, but blood red. I knew it was my blood he wanted, not my mum’s. Terrified I fled the living room and slammed the door to the stairs; I shut my bedroom door too. My so-called Uncle wanted to hypnotize me. He wanted drink my blood.
I knew Garlic wasn’t going to protect me.