Stuff Nightmares Are Made of


Norah gasped and sat up! The pack of wild dogs stopped chasing her. She was safe in her own bed. It had all been a bad dream, but it was over. Lacie lay on the chaise under the window fast asleep.
Thank god! That was some nightmare.
The digital clock on the bedside table said 7:15. Time to get up and make some coffee.
I love Sundays.
She swung her legs off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
“Come on Lacie, rise and shine, time for breakfast.”
Lacie didn’t move.
Norah put some toothpaste on the Sonicare and walked over to her sleeping dog as she brushed her teeth.
“Come on lazy bones.”
Lacie felt cold and stiff. Something was wrong. Her dog stood up slowly, clumsily, as though drugged, she looked at Norah, a thread of blood and saliva dribbled from the corner of her mouth as she tried to growl.
Dropping her toothbrush Norah stared at her dog, then turned and ran.
“John, come quickly, there’s something wrong. I think Lacie’s sick, she may have rabies. JOHN!”
Her husband sat on the sofa with his back to her. He was wearing headphones and watching soccer on the television. He did that sometimes on a Sunday morning, so as not to disturb her, the European games were early. She ran in front of the television to get his attention. Then she froze.
Oh dear lord help me. Am I still having a nightmare. Wake up, please let me wake up.
Her husband stood up and smiled at her. It was a one-sided smile. The left side of his faces was missing. She saw movement over his shoulder. Janine, the teenager from next door limped clumsily out of the kitchen. She was naked from the waist up, her skin was torn and decaying. The once beautiful young girl looked at Norah and licked her lips. Then she hissed and stumbled towards her, arms outstretched. Norah willed herself to wake up, but this wasn’t a nightmare. She took a step backwards, but there was nowhere to go, she backed into the television. John took a step towards her. Norah turned to run, but pain pierced her ankle. Lacie sunk her teeth into Norah’s foot and pulled a chunk of flesh away. The noise was sickening.
Make the most of it Lacie, it’s the last breakfast you get from me!
Norah was thankful when her brain fogged into darkness. She’d had enough!

I hope you enjoy my short horror stories. Sometimes I have to empty my brain before I go back to my real writing. “Ghosts on the Sand” is a compilation of short stories, and I will be releasing it later this year. There are no zombies or vampires in this book, but it is a collection of chilling tales that I think you’ll enjoy. Watch out for it on Amazon. 


Dead Eyes Open

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When Norah opened her eyes there was no sign of her precious pup. She tried to call her name, but her mouth wouldn’t work. She pushed herself into a sitting position and immediately felt nauseous.
Lacie? Where are you?
Blue light still spilled through a gap in the curtains from her house, but other than that, she was surrounded by darkness. Thankfully the oppressive sickening buzz had disappeared. Norah lay still on the cold wet grass, praying her nausea would subside. Her head spun as though she were on a fairground ride.
What was that?
A nebulous light flitted just within her range of vision. She turned her head slightly to follow it and immediately threw up again.
I have to beat this, I just have to.
Above her the curtains opened. Her husband held their lifeless dog in his arms. He Chewed hungrily on its ear, blood dribbling down his chin. He looked down in the grass and saw Nora lying there, easy prey. Food to feed his hunger.

Norah looked up to the sky. The light had steadied now, hovering above her.
What the hell is that?
The dizziness eased and she stood up, unsteady on her feet, but she managed to remain upright.
“Lacie, Lacie, come on girl, where are you?”
With her back to the house, she looked into the darkness.
Why is it so dark? Where did you go Lacie, you could barely walk, where did you go?
She turned around and looked towards the house again. John stood in the window. He smiled and waved at her. Lacie was in his arms.
How did she get in the house? Has this all been a dream?
Norah hurried to the front door, which opened as she approached. John opened both arms to greet her, dropping the lifeless bundle of fur to the ground as he did so. Lacie bounced down the porch steps, blood dripping from her head where her ear should have been. Norah stopped in her tracks.
What the hell!
“John what’s wrong with you? Lacie!”
The furry lifeless bundle rested on the bottom step, eyes wide open. Norah picked her up. Sobbing she hugged her.
What happened to you Lacie. Was it a coyote? A rabid dog?
Norah looked up at her husband, hoping for answers. His lips were smeared with blood. He picked a dog hair from between his front teeth and lurched towards her.

Evil Shadows!


When Sam opened his eyes again it was dark and quiet. He tried to move, but he was fastened tightly to whatever he lay on. His body ached from lack of movement. His eyes became accustomed to the dark and he could make out shadows around him, but nothing moved. A huge black caldron sat on the dying embers of the fire. He dreaded to think what might be inside it. Then he felt silly, witches didn’t really exist, this must be a bad dream. He remembered looking for Dirk in the woods, he remembered the cottage, he remembered…

His arms were numb from being tied so tightly so he wriggled his fingers to make sure they were still there.

He was cold, so very cold.

Sadie, I think I’ll be with you soon. Don’t know where I am, but I’m in trouble and I’m not sure I can escape.

Something stirred in the far side of the cabin. Sam strained his eyes to get a better look.

“Who’s there?” He asked. No reply! Dawn approached and a slice of light found its way through the dark drapes that hung across the window. A man sat in a chair, A man with a misshapen head. Sam watched in horror as sky brightened.

“Dirk, is that you.” The head moved slightly. Sam closed his eyes.

This can’t be happening, This is a nightmare. WAKE UP!

He opened his eyes again.

Oh dear sweet Jesus!

A face with flaming red demented eyes hovered over him,  staring hungrily down. A face he recognized!

“Good Morning Sammie, I’m glad you’re awake. I have a surprise for you.”

“Sadie? What have they done to you?”

The face cracked into a grotesque grin as it bore down on him.

Halloween Treat!

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The nostalgic aromas were intense, his nostrils devoured them.
“I miss you Sadie, I miss you so much.”
Sammie come closer and keep me warm, I’m waiting for you.
He took another step and his knees buckled beneath him. He sunk to the ground. He was aware of hands grabbing onto him, finding a place to grip him and lift him and carry him.
Sam opened his eyes. His vision was blurry. He tried to speak, but couldn’t.
The aroma wasn’t wood smoke anymore, it was rancid, sickening. His eyelids were heavy.

Childish giggling roused him from unnatural slumber. Still unable to move anything but his eyeballs he looked around.
I’m inside the cottage, the old hag has me in her cottage.
As though reading his mind a dark figure appeared, her face was hidden in the shadows, but he could see her body, it was young and shapely.
Is this who Dirk saw in the woods? Is this the old hag playing tricks? She has us drugged.
“Yes you’re in my home, you should be thankful I have you. You fell to the ground out there. I brought you in. Saved you from the forest. I’m insulted that you call me names. Do I look like an old hag?”
I’d be safer in the forest!
“Really? It depends what you call safe?”
Sam’s eyelids were still heavy.
“Come children, give our guest some soup, he’s weak.”
The pattering of tiny feet, the scraping of a chair. The shapely figure disappeared and a deformed face bent over him. A face that looked like it had been patched together roughly from spare human parts. The ears didn’t match, the eyes were odd. If Sam could move, he’d have screamed and run. A grotesque smile twisted the drooling mouth above him. A hand that looked more like a claw held a spoon of steaming liquid. From the shadows at the far end of the cabin a voice commanded him to eat. As the steaming liquid trickled down his throat whispers invaded his ears. They floated around him, above him, beside him. The filled the dark, thick atmosphere of the cabin.

Drink your soup, let it warm your insides,
We need to fatten you up,
We’re cold and hungry we need to eat,
Any you are our special Halloween Treat!

The patchwork face above him licked its lips and drooled a little more, then grinned, revealing two rows of  razor sharp teeth.

Death Memory

522891-murder”Why does it feel warm?”

She undid the popper that kept the camera case closed. The clicking had stopped, but camera vibrated. It was processing something. Barbara shuddered.

“I don’t like the way it feels, it feels warm alive.”

“Here, give it to me,” Lucy said, “this whole thing might be some sort of joke, lets see what on its memory.”

Barbara looked around uncomfortably; they were surrounded by darkness and silence. It wasn’t a good place to be at night. Lucy gasped.

“Oh sweet Jesus. Oh dear God.”

“What is it?”

Lucy turned stood next to her friend and showed her the secrets captured in the camera’s memory. Barbara turned around and hung on to the branch of a tree while she threw up.

Where are you Juliet?

lake sunset

Gasping for breath, Jake sat up. He was cold! Where am I?
Are you okay?”
Juliet looked at him, concern in her big brown eyes.
“I must have fallen asleep. I had a weird dream.”
He put his arms around his new fiancée and hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. She smelled good. The mists of his nightmare faded as she lifted her face and kissed him again.
“What did you dream?” she asked.
“I can’t really remember, I think I was drowning!”
“Well there isn’t much chance of that happening is there”? You were the champion of the swim team in high school. No drowning for you Jake”
He smiled at her and kissed her again, pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her body close to him.
“When shall we get married. I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life.”
“Next June,” Juliet replied, “everyone loves a June wedding.”
She stood up and walked down to the lake, dipping her toes into the cool clear water. Jake shivered, but he didn’t know why. Juliet turned and reached out to him, here
come sit by the water for a while, it feels good. They sat with their toes in the water, the sunset and fading light turning the lake’s surface red.
It looks like Hell!
“I’ve never told anyone this before, but I got a bad scare down here one night. I thought I saw a lady in the middle of the lake.” Juliet said as she gazed into the distance.
“What, you mean in a boat or something?”
“No, it was weird and scary she was just hovering there. Half of her body was under the water. She had long hair. I know it was just the light playing tricks with me, but it scared the crap out of me. I thought it was a ghost.”
“Did you ever see her again?” Jake could hardly get the words out of his mouth as his dream flooded his brain. The sun was gone and the remaining light played tricks with the shadows. He began to shiver. He took hold of Juliet’s hand. It was as cold as ice. When he looked at their reflection in the still water he froze.
He was alone!

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




The Visiting Dead!

Zombie-2-350How long is this going to last? Why am I being haunted by these images? What do they want from me?

All of these thoughts weighed on Lindsay’s mind as she sat clutching the warm parcel of fish and chips. She gazed out at the hedgerows and stone walls at either side of the road, thankful for the silence.

Who is the young man who visits me? Why doesn’t he speak?

“OK, which way now?”

“Oh sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. Right at the fork, and then the second right, just before the football field.” Pull up alongside the decaying teenagers on the left!

Lindsay closed her eyes tightly.

“Did you see something over there, by the front door?” Barbara asked.

“You saw it too?” she asked desperately.

“No, I saw the look on your face. You looked that way in the interview room too. What it is you think you see? What has you so afraid?”

“Lets go inside,” Lindsay said. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

The young policewoman scanned the area, not really knowing what she was looking for. Something was scaring this poor girl badly, and it wasn’t the young man they’d seen in town.

Once inside, Lindsay locked and bolted the door, it wouldn’t keep out the dead, but it made her feel better. They sat at the kitchen table eating fish and chips straight from the paper, washing them down with cold beer.

“I shouldn’t drink on duty, but I don’t think one beer will get me fired.”

“What made you decide to join the Police Force?” Lindsay asked.

“Originally I was going to join the Military Police, my fiancé was in the army, but he was killed when a car bomb exploded outside his barracks in London.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. She swallowed hard and continued. I didn’t have the heart for the Army after that.”

“God I’m sorry. That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“I think you know what if feels like first hand. Who else could be responsible for the bombing on Saturday night, if not the IRA?”

There was a gentle rapping at the front door. I daren’t answer it; I daren’t look out there.

“Do you want me to get that?” Barbara asked, “You look terrified.”

“Yes please.” I know the dead wouldn’t knock, but I just don’t want to look.

When Barbara returned to the room she wasn’t alone. The skinny young man with the haunted eyes followed her, and behind him was Mel, or what was left of her. Not much more than a skeleton with eyes now. Lindsay bit her lip until it brought blood; it was all she could do to stop herself from fainting. She knew she was the only one who saw her.

She pushed the remains of her fish and chips across the table. She’d suddenly lost her appetite. 

This is the first blog story I’ve done where the protagonist is not telling the story. It’s an exercise for me. I hope its working. My first novel Dead of July is available on Amazon. 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

Body Count 160

Lindsay sat up in bed gasping for breath, disoriented and scared. Morning light streamed through the curtains as she collected her scattered thoughts. She was sweating, but cold, very cold. She looked around nervously, afraid of what may be lurking in the shadows. Finally she got her breathing under control,  swung her legs out of bed and slipped her feet into her slippers. Grabbing her robe she padded into the kitchen and switched on the kettle before slumping into a chair at the kitchen table and resting her head in her hands. She thought about the night before. Did I really see those horrific burned figures in my bedroom? Was I dreaming? I’m losing it! 

The kettle boiled and she poured the steaming water over a tea bag in her favorite mug and left it to brew while she opened the fridge. Damn, no milk. I really don’t want to leave the house today. Drinking her tea black (it tasted bitter), she walked into the living room and opened the curtains. A white car was parked outside. The same car she’d seen more than once since the fire. Lindsay squinted against the sunlight, looking for passengers. Looking back at her, through the window, was the same solemn white face.

OK, I need to know who this is. She ran to the front door and opened it wide, just in time to see the car disappear from view. What the hell is the connection? She thought.

A Police car pulled onto the street. Great! 

Two police officers got out, one male and one female. They had serious expressions on their faces.

Now what? 

“We need you to get dressed and come to the station with us.”

“Am I being arrested?” Lindsay asked.

They ushered her into the house. Shutting the front door behind her, Lindsay turned to look at the grim-faced officers. “Why do I have to go to the station? I’ve told you everything I know already.”

“One hundred and sixty bodies have been recovered, you were the only survivor. We need to know what you saw, and why you left early.”

Lindsay felt numb, 160 bodies. God in a small town like this, that was a quarter of the youth population. She stumbled blindly into the bedroom and got dressed. In the behind her, she saw the fleeting image of a charred body. What the hell is happening to me?

“You’re over 18 and old enough to be interviewed alone, but is there anyone you’d like to call?” The female officer asked.

Lindsay shook her head, on television in situations like this, she’d ask for her lawyer! She seriously hoped she didn’t need one.

“No one!” she answered.

Police Car








Yes, a young girl in trouble. It’s the theme of all of my stories, most likely because I was always in trouble myself. If you’re enjoying this, and have read my previous short stories, check out my novel Dead of July, which is available to purchase from Amazon.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson