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


Walking Dead? A visit from a dead friend!

0a81a5298b5af4dc9a1bab1dedbdb0b5“DED 1666? Are you sure?” The Sgt. asked “It’s a pretty unusual number, probably a custom plate.”

“Yes I’m sure.”

“A number like that should be easy to trace. You can’t remember the color, but you remember the plate number.”

“Like you said, it’s unusual.” The doorbell rang again. Pam left Lindsay and the Sgt. together and opened the door to Steve, Lindsay’s brother. He followed her into the kitchen. “I thought I’d pop by to make sure  you’re alright. I just opened the local newspaper and saw what happened at that disco. I heard the fire engines last night, but didn’t know where they were going. Isn’t that where you hang out sometimes?” Then he looked at Sargent Whitely. “Are you in trouble Lindsay?”

“No for once I’m not in trouble. I was at the disco last night, I left early. All of my friends were there. Now they’re dead.” Lindsay’s voice broke. She didn’t have a close relationship with her brother and he looked uncomfortable.

“What? There are no survivors? God, I didn’t know. That’s awful. Why didn’t you come to us last night. You shouldn’t be on your own. I’m not sure how to contact Mum and Dad, they’re in France somewhere.”

Lindsay looked a Steve. He was genuinely worried, a side of him she’d never seen before. “Whats the point in worrying them. They probably won’t hear the news in France, leave them be and let them enjoy their vacation. God knows they deserve it.”

Sgt Whitely interrupted, “I’m going to leave you in peace now. If you remember anything else please call me.” Lindsay nodded and Pam showed him out.

Steve looked at his sister. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Lindsay said. She felt numb, probably in shock. “I’m alive.”

Pam switched on the kettle. “It’s too early for anything stronger so we’ll make do with tea. That car you saw, you’d best watch out for it, it may be the bloody Irish. They might be watching you. Terrorist bastards.”

“IRA?” Steve looked at me alarmed. “Did the IRA do this?”

“No one knows. The locals are putting two and two together and making six. They are guessing its the IRA because Studio 2 is near an Army camp. No one really knows what happened. They say it may be a car bomb, but everyone is just jumping to conclusions.”

“Do you want to come and stay with Janie and I until this all blows over?” Steve asked.

“It’s never going to blow over, people are dead, how can that blow over? No, I’ll be alright here.” A noise from outside made everyone look towards the window. Lindsay screamed.

“What wrong?” Pam asked. Lindsay couldn’t speak, just pointed to the window.

Steve opened the back door. “Nothing here, it was probably a squirrel or something.

Lindsay was visibly shaking. “No one saw the face at the window?”

Pam and Steve looked at each other. Steve spoke “No, I didn’t see anything. Are you sure you don’t want to come and stay with Janie and I?”

“Don’t treat me like an invalid, I saw a someone at the window.”

“Did you recognize them? Who was it?” Pam asked.

“It looked like Mel.”

“Wasn’t Mel at Studio 2 with you last night? Did she leave with you?”

Lindsay hung her head. “No, she was dancing with someone when I left.” She daren’t add that the face she’d just seen at the window was charred, hair burned off and teeth protruding from lips that were no longer there. If she told them that, they’d think she’d lost her mind. 

My novel Dead of July is available on Amazon, more stories to be published this year. Check back soon for the next instalment of my short blog story. I hope you it creeps you out!

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson


Dark Shadow – Death of Everyone You Love!


I awoke the following morning to the sound of my apartment door closing. Looking at the clock I saw it was 5:30am. Was Jeff leaving already? I smelled coffee so I donned my robe and made my way to the kitchen. There was a note on the countertop. I took your spare key in case you are still at work when I get back. The thought of Jeff coming back gave me a warm feeling. Was it because I felt safe when he was around, or maybe I had feelings for him. I always had a soft spot for him, even back in the day when he walked the streets and everyone thought him crazy. He wasn’t crazy, just different, I knew how that felt.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee I walked across to the window. This was the place I stood when I first saw the Dark Angel after leaving hospital. I shivered; it was the day my dad was killed in a car crash. Damn you! I said to myself. I will not let you take any more lives.

Try and stop me!

Did I really hear someone whisper in my ear?

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name……….. I recited the Lord’s Prayer, not knowing what else to do, but feeling like I needed to do something. No more whispers, it was probably my imagination.

I didn’t feel the least bit like going to work but I had bills to pay, so after finishing my coffee, I jumped in the shower. I was on edge.

Was I being watched? Where was the Dark Angel when I didn’t see her? Was she watching me?

My work day was long; I watched the hours tick slowly by until five o clock finally came around. When I arrived home Jeff was waiting for me. “I brought food,” he said, “Chinese, I remember you used to like Chinese food.”

“Oh yea, we went to that little Chinese Restaurant in Richmond once right! I’d forgotten.”

“You bought me dinner. You were kind to me when no-one else would talk to me.”

“You didn’t have many friends back then did you Jeff?”

“Still don’t,” he said as he set the table.

A chilling breeze tormented my ear, a breeze that whispered Oh you like him don’t you, killing him is going to be fun.”

I looked at Jeff, terror obvious on my face. Was I losing me mind?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Did you hear that?” I asked, “did you hear someone whisper.” I was shaking.

“No, what did they say?”

I burst into tears. “It’s the Dark Angel. She wants to kill you. You have to stop helping me, go home.”


If you like my blog, try out my first novel Dead of July – A German Ghost Story. Also available on Smashwords – Dead of July

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

I’m still an old newbie to the world of writing, and marketing isn’t my thing. If you read my book, and enjoy it, please spread the word. I’d love a comment on my blog to let me know what you think, even better, a review on Amazon.

If you’re enjoying my blog story, let me know. I need any encouragement you have to offer.


Faceless Angel of Death

Tree blocking road

My mum hummed a tune as she washed the tea cups “Are you going to stay for your Sunday dinner Lucy?” she asked hopefully.

“I’d love to, but I think I’d better get back home. I don’t feel great. I’ll come to church with  you next week, and maybe we can go and have a nice pub lunch somewhere.”

“Yes I’d like that.” my mum said and then frowned, “Is there something you’re not telling me? You seem edgy. Are you still taking pain killers after your car accident. I’ve heard people get addicted to those things,”

“I’m fine mum, honest. I’m just stressed with work, and I won’t lie, I miss dad. I still feel responsible for his death. He was on his way to see me when he died.”

My mum hugged me. “It wasn’t your fault. He should have stopped smoking years ago. Cigarettes killed him, nothing else.” Thunder rumbled in the distance and the sky turned a nasty charcoal grey. “Let me call a cab, I don’t want you driving me home, this storm looks like it could get nasty.” I said.

“Don’t be so silly, I can have you home in five minutes,” my mum insisted grabbing her car keys. “Was that Jeff I saw you talking too outside the church?” she asked.

“Yes it was, you never liked him did you?”

“I didn’t dislike him, I just thought he was strange. Didn’t he used to be a hippy? I think he took drugs too.”

I laughed “Yes mum, I suppose he was a bit of a hippy, it was the fashion. I think everyone took drugs in the seventies”

“Does he still carry bones in his…………..”

“Mam look out”

Lightning hit a tree ahead of us and it crashed to the ground, blocking the road. My mum slammed on the break and I grabbed the steering wheel, yanking it to the right. The car skidded to a halt. We sat still for a few seconds in shock,  knowing we had narrowly escaped death. A dark winged shape perched on the wall by the fallen tree. It was little more than a shadow. Did my mum see it too?

Her hands gripped the steering wheel as though her life depended on it. She stared straight ahead, a terrified look on her face. “Mam are you alright?.”

No answer.

“I’m going to drive us home,” I said.

She neither moved or spoke. Did she see the dark shape on the wall. I followed the direction of her gaze, but angel of death was gone. Gently I prized my mum’s fingers from the steering wheel before getting out of the car and walking to the driver’s side. Taking her hand I gently helped out of the car and guided her to the passenger seat. “I’m going to take you home and make a nice cup of sweet tea, you’ve had a nasty shock.”

As I drove away I looked in the rearview mirror at the log blocking the road. Did I see a shadow again?

Dear God don’t let it hurt anyone else.

“Did you see that big bird?” my mum asked.

“What big bird I asked,” apprehensively.

“The big dark bird on the wall, I saw one just like it at the bottom of the garden this morning, I wonder what it is.”

The rain began to fall heavily as we drove home and I was glad. It blocked the images I didn’t want to look at.

Night Terrors and The Walking Dead

I watched the garage door close firmly, making sure no one slid underneath before the door hit the concrete. Then I did something I’d NEVER done before. I locked it. Walking from room to room, I closed every shutter, checking the perimeter of the house as I did so. I made sure the front and back door were firmly locked. The glass sliding doors in the walk out basement worried me because they would be easy to break. Pull yourself together, I kept saying out loud. What was it I’d seen in the supermarket parking lot? My brain registered a creature from ‘the Walking Dead’, but it wasn’t possible. You saw a poor young lady with a horrific skin disease, I reasoned. She tried to sell you cosmetics that’s all.

I poured myself a glass of red wine, my hands shaking so much I almost spilled it. I turned up the heating, it had suddenly become very cold. It was impossible for me to sit still and relax. I gulped my wine and poured myself another glass. Should I call my husband? I picked up the phone and dialed, but was put straight to voice mail. SHIT! I dialed my daughter, same thing. Oh well, I guess I’m on my own, I thought.

The second glass of red wine did help to calm my shattered nerves so I sat down and worked on my current novel. Thank the Lord it wasn’t about Zombies. Getting lost in my writing helped eliminate my fear. Sheila, my heroine was backed in a corner, an evil Russian closing in on her, threatening her when I heard a scraping noise coming from outside.  What the hell was that? I heard it again, the noise came from the front porch. Now I was scared! I eased quietly off the sofa, not making a sound. I tiptoed quietly to the door and looked out of the little round peep-hole. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. I stifled a scream, but only just. The creature standing on my porch was familiar to me, I’d seen her often in the local Bar, but never looking like this. I grabbed my cell phone, and with my trembling fingers dialed 911. The line was dead!


Photo from the Huffington Post


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