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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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!

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!

Clearing the Demons – A Ghost Story

GraveyardWas the sun rising or setting? How long had I been here? What was I doing? And then I remembered talking to the old lady in my local pub. I didn’t know her, but felt her watching me. Eventually, feeling uncomfortable, but curious about her fixation, I ordered another drink and went to sit beside her.

“I haven’t seen you here before, but I feel your eyes on me. Do you know me?” I asked.

“You called me.” She said in a quiet voice that sounded like footsteps on dry twigs.

“Called you? I don’t even know you,” I replied, something wasn’t quite right here.

Old woman

“Oh you called me, it was just a whisper, but I heard you. What do you want from me?” She asked.

“What does she mean?” I thought to myselfI began to feel uncomfortable and troubled as her piercing old eyes stared into mine, reading my mind, no reading me. I felt I may faint. She looked away and the feeling passed.

“You are troubled my child. All is not well with you. You need to clear your Demons.”

“Clear my Demons, what do you mean?” I asked, but I knew she was right. For the last year I had been haunted by thoughts of hurting myself, even taking my own life. I was in my early thirties, but felt life had already passed me by. I was an outsider looking at the life other people lived, feeling excluded, sad, different.

She cackled but it wasn’t an angry mean sound, it was just an old woman’s laugh. “Go visit your mother.”

“I’d love to, but my mother is dead.” I replied angrily.

I looked down at my drink, not wanting her to see me cry. I wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheeks before looking up again, when I did, she’d gone. Good riddance, I thought.

I finished my wine and went back to the bar to get another glass. “Who was that old lady?” I asked Gina, the barmaid as I gestured in the direction of the table at which we’d sat.

“Old lady? What are you talking about? You were alone. You looked like you were talking to yourself. I hope you don’t want another drink, I think you may have had enough.”

Was I losing my mind? 

“No, I don’t want another drink. I have an appointment. Happy New Year,” I said to the bemused barmaid as I left. I didn’t care that she thought me crazy. I walked towards the cemetery, the old lady’s voice echoing in my head, “Go visit your mother,” she said. I decided to take her advice.

How does this story end? Check back in a couple of days to find out!

My new novel, Dead of July, is available on Amazon. 

Click on the link below for more information.

A German Ghost Story

A German Ghost Story

 

Dark, Deep and Dangerous – Rock and Roll Suicide – Is there Life on Mars?

River Swale

Like most teens, I was troubled. Why is it growing up so difficult? I thought about taking my life on more than one occasion, feeling like no one understood me, or cared about me. I’m lucky to still be here, believe me. I was a teen in the late sixties, early seventies, when temptation was abundant, drugs, rock concerts, free love. So many things to temp a teenager to take the wrong path. I strayed to the dark side a couple of times, but always came back.

One chilly September evening I had the biggest row with my mother and I ran out of the house, slamming the back door behind me. The sun was setting as I walked down the back lane to the banks of the River Swale. My intention was to walk into the cold water and end my misery.

I found a comfortable rock to sit on, pulled out a pack of cigarettes (players no. 6) and inhaled the killer smoke deeply. It felt good. I sat and smoked what I thought may be my last cigarette as I watched the dark deep waters of the Swale beckon to me as they slid by. I finished my cigarette and looked at the smooth surface of the river as though hypnotized. It looked like oil, dark and smooth. I imagined myself walking slowly into the darkness. I would disappear without a trace. I didn’t think of the bloated body that may turn up a few miles downstream after a couple of days. I didn’t think of how it would hurt my parents.

I lit another cigarette and thought of the David Bowie song ‘Rock and Roll Suicide’. I could hear him singing it in my head. The words SUICIDE echoed loudly.

Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth
You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette
The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget
Ohhh how how how, you’re a rock n roll suicide

I stood up and walked to the edge of the water. It beckoned me.

‘It’s a god awful small affair, to the girl with the mousey hair’

Another Bowie song, my song, but this time it wasn’t playing in my head. It was real. I looked around. “Hello” I shouted “Who’s out there?”

No one answered, but a new song started.

“Will you stay in my lovers story? If you stay you won’t be sorry, cos we believe in you”

“Hello”. I shouted again. “I know you are there. I like David Bowie too. You are playing all of my favorite songs”

I saw a light in the bushes behind me. Should I be scared? All thoughts of suicide were forgotten. My head was full of David Bowie and the light in the bushes. I walked towards it. It was a flashlight. I couldn’t see who was holding it because it was shining in my eyes. I prepared to turn and run when a voice said “Sandra, come home, lets talk”

It was my mum. I was glad to see her. “Sorry mum” I said “I didn’t want to fight”

“I know honey” she replied “It’s what families do”

We walked back up the dark unlit lane together, glad of the flashlight.

“Mum, did you hear music?” I asked.

“Yes it was that awful Bowie noise. Your friend Bobbie was sitting on a stone by the river with his transistor radio. Is he Okay? Do you want to bring him home?”

I stopped and looked at her “Mum, Bobbie’s is dead, he jumped out of a window last week, it can’t have been Bobbie” I said.

She looked at me, shining the flashlight in my face almost blinding me. “Why did he jump out of a window, he was such a nice boy. It certainly looked like him.”

“LSD” I answered.

We carried on walking. I am not sure if she knew what LSD was.

“With your long blonde hair and your eyes of blue, the only thing I ever got from you was sorrow……sorrow”

I looked at my mum to see if she heard this, she didn’t. 

Sitting on the stone wall, in the shadows was Bobbie, transistor radio in his hand. He had a sad look on his face. I was still alive. I survived another traumatic teenage episode. Bobbie had saved me. It was too late for him though. 

Life is never so bad that you should end it, especially when you are young.

 

Watch out for my upcoming novel ‘Dead of July’, which will be released later this year.  (Preview) Dead of July

My first short stories are available on Amazon. I believe you can get them for free. They aren’t perfect, but have received enough good reviews to encourage me to continue writing…..’Dead of July’ is currently with my editor and will be my debut novel. I am extremely excited about this one. 

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