Hovering

“Don’t let my uniform scare you love, my name’s Andy, you’re going to be okay! I’m staying with you until we can get you some help.”

“I want to go home”

“I know, but we have to wait until Leslie arrives, You can’t drive right now.”

“Who’s Leslie and how long will she be, I feel sick and I want to go home. What time is it, my mam and dad will be worried.” June whimpered.

“I can see you aren’t feeling well. Are you sure you weren’t drinking? You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to know why  you’re so sick.Leslie is a female Police Officer, I think you’ll feel more comfortable with her than me.”

“I need you to call my dad! He’ll be out looking for me.”

“We’ve let him know you’re OK. He called the station last night when you didn’t make it home.”

“I tried to call him, I wanted him to pick me up, because I daren’t drive in the fog, I couldn’t see. I’ve just passed my driving test. I tried to walk home. Don’t know how I ended up back in my car again. I don’t remember. What time is it?”

“Four o clock, you’ve been gone a while. Was anyone else with you?”

“No! I didn’t see anyone anyway, but I think there was someone. I felt someone!”

June threw up again.  She shivered so badly her teeth chattered. The young Police Officer was concerned and ran to his patrol car and came back with his jacket. He placed gently around her shoulders.

He spoke into his phone again, “How far away are you Leslie? I’m calling an ambulance. She’s sick, really sick.”

Slumped in her seat, June was barely conscious, her hair stuck to her ghostly pale face. The phone buzzed again, Andy picked it up.

“PC Andy Webster here. Yes, I’m with her now, she’s sick! I’ve called an ambulance and a WPC. Meet us at the hospital in Warrens Heath.”

The ambulance raced along the road sirens blaring. Far above, not visible to the human eye, a spaceship hovered. June was carrying something important, something they needed. No harm could come to her, they wouldn’t allow it.

Spaceship

2017 Annus Mirabilis

img_0582No, I’m not learning Latin. Although if I have time, I may take Italian Lessons! For those of you who faithfully follow my blog, you’ll know I’ve been absent for a while. You could say I’m trying to get my $*%@ together again! I’ve been writing since I was in High School (and that’s a VERY long time ago), my head is full of stories, some true, some started by my late dad, and some in a back room of my brain, waiting to break free.

My absence was caused because my life has changed a little. I lost my job a couple of years ago, and my new position, with a much larger company, is much more taxing. I come home drained. I think I’ve finally gotten used to that. My health changed, fought with it for a while, but hopefully I have that under control too. Lastly my husband doesn’t travel any more, so the house is a little noisier. Now thats fixed that too. We had a small addition built, which gives me a little more privacy in my little study.

Now, I’m comfortable again and ready to hit the ground running.

I’m working on re-editing a couple of old stories, which will be released as a compilation later this year. It’ll be a cheap buy, because I want lots of folks to read it. Two of the stories were the first I ever published, and in my excitement to get them out there, I omitted making them perfect. I’m making them perfect now. (well as perfect as possible).

It feels good to be back, to be writing again!

 

Halloween – The Scent of a Woman

halloweenCome on, think, come up with an idea! You have to write, if you don’t write you don’t eat! Funds a are low!

Jane sat at her desk tired, frustrated and brain-dead. Writer’s block had set in and it looked like it was here to stay. It’s Halloween for Christ’s sake, I write horror stories for a living. Why can’t I come up with a single idea?

*************

A couple of miles away, in a derelict house on the edge of the lake, sat a man, the word man is used loosely. He was more mutant than human. Born from an inbred cult who’d been dead for a decade, he was the only survivor of the mass suicide of the Lake clan. For days he crawled across their limp bodies, looking for nourishment, which he’d eventually found. I don’t think I need to tell you what he ate. He was five years old when he was left to fend for himself, and already damaged. More to the point, dangerous! His now dead family were the only people he’d ever known, a loveless breed who lived in caves and tree houses deep in the forests of the Appalachians. Preying on lonely hikers, stray dogs, and anything else they could eat. Their language was a serious of grunts, mixed with the occasional word. They were long gone now, except for one, and he was hungry!

**********************

Pouring herself a glass of wine, Jane stood by the window and looked across the lake. She’d used money she couldn’t afford to rent this place, hoping to get away from worldly distractions and write. She had no cell phone signal, no television, and was miles from the nearest town. Her only living contact was Penny, her elderly mutt, who lay sleeping on the rug by the fire. Have I wasted the last of my savings? She walked out onto the porch. It was a beautiful clear night. The lake reflected the full moon. It looked like mercury. Other than the rustling of the trees, and the sound of the night creatures, all was still peaceful.

************************

At the other side of the lake one of the silent night creatures felt Jane’s presence. He sat still and sniffed. His animal instincts smelled human. It smelled woman. Instantly aroused he silently rose and looked towards the scent. He’d located his prey and moved stealthily towards the cabin.

Gunfire and Hookers

We heard three shots, bang-bang bang, one after another! It was terrifying. The closest I’d ever been to live gunfire was watching my neighbors at their back yard shooting range. This was America, everyone had a gun, but I’d never been in the line of fire. Our driver reversed speedily back to where Larry and Jack were. “Get Down!” he yelled. We didn’t need to be told twice. Janie and I dropped to the floor. The back door of the van opened, and even before it closed again, our tires screeched and we sped down the road. More gunfire. The back window of the van exploded! Janie screamed. A sharp right turn threw us across the floor. Finally, after a few more turns, we stopped.

“I don’t want anyone to move. Stay down!”12648704893_0f2dcc7aab

The tattooed passenger (I wish I knew his name) got out and disappeared into the darkness. Although I’d been told to stay down, I raised my head slightly and peeped over the back seat. Larry was sprawled on the floor cradling Jack in front of him. He saw the look of alarm on my face and put his finger to his lips. Jack turned his head and looked at me.

Thank God, he’s alive.

He’ll be OK, stay down pet, this isn’t over yet. I think my gran was with me. Car headlights appeared behind us. Filled with adrenalin, I was ready to run. The car pulled along side us. “It’s OK,” Larry whispered, “It’s our boys.”

I moved towards the door, wanting to put all of this behind me. “No, not you, this is for the old man and the other girl,” he said, “We need to split up.”

Janie clung to me “It’s OK go!” I said and pushed her gently towards the door wishing desperately I was going with her.

“What about me?”

“We’re going to get a cab!”

“Dressed like this?” I asked.

“Yes!” We need to be seen.

Larry helped me out of the van and caught me when my legs gave way beneath me.

“Come on, you can do this.”

We walked along the back streets just south of Colfax. It was a cold night and the streets were deserted. I wasn’t familiar with the area and completely lost. Cold and afraid I clung to Larry’s arm.

“What if they come after us?”

“Don’t think about it. Pretend it never happened.”

I looked at him with tears streaming down my face, “And what about Janie, do you think they’ll just let her go?”

“OK dry your eyes we’re almost there. It would help if you acted like a hooker!”

I looked down at my short skirt and ridiculous shoes. I certainly looked the part.

We reached a major intersection. It was Colorado Boulevard and Colfax. A line of taxis parked by the curb outside a club.

Thank God!

Several police cars and an ambulance raced past us, sirens blaring. They turned left onto Colfax. I knew where they were headed.

Larry helped me into a cab.

“Where to?” The driver asked.

“Can you recommend a cheap hotel near here?” Larry asked, “I’m from out-of-town.”

I saw the expression on the drivers face as he looked at me in the mirror.

Dear Lord, I hope I never see him again. 

I glared at Larry. He was enjoying this way too much!

“I know just the place.”

 

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

 

 

 

River of Death!

riverside bombThey walked down the back lane in silence oblivious of the danger close by. An unstable deadly bomb was being built by a man with an unstable deadly mind. He talked quietly as he worked. “I’ll get the bastards who killed you. I’ll get them, and their friends. They’ll be sorry.”

****************

“How dangerous is Colleen’s brother?” Lindsay asked.

“I don’t know. He was all right until his sister was killed. Now he’s lost all reason. John’s suffering too, but his grief is private and not vengeful. I hope John finds Patrick and takes him back to Ireland.”

“Michael, Patrick killed my friends didn’t he. He made the car bomb that blew up the disco!”

“I don’t know for sure. John and I followed him to a pub in Richmond that night. He said he was going to the club. He was drunk and sad. He didn’t make much sense, but we thought the worst that would happen was he’d start a fight. We planned to meet him and go with him, just to keep him out of trouble, but he got away from us. We arrived just a the shit hit the fan and the car outside exploded.”

“Did you see Patrick at the fire? Was he there?”

“No, that’s why I can’t talk to the cops yet. I don’t want them to arrest him. If they do he’ll never get away because all of the evidence points at him. What if it wasn’t him?”

“I know you want to believe he isn’t responsible, but who else could it be?”

“Colleen!” Michael said quietly.

“Oh come on, you don’t really believe that. Colleen is a restless spirit. She’s a figment of our troubled minds.”

“Lindsay, you saw her at the window. You’ve heard her voice.”

“Yes, but ghosts can’t make bombs!”

“Quiet! Did you hear that?”

Lindsay and Michael stood still and listened.

“Its John.” Michael said. He ran towards the sound of John’s voice. Lindsay followed reluctantly. As she ran, she heard another loud angry voice. There was a loud splash and then silence.

Lindsay froze, something was wrong. She turned and came face to face with her dead friend. Mel was no longer burned and disfigured, but the vibrant happy young girl that Lindsay had grown up with.

“Mel?”

The shadowy figure in front of her smiled and disappeared.

“MEL!” Dammit, I’m seeing things.

Lindsay set off after Michael again, but didn’t get far. There was an almighty explosion.  The ground shook, knocking off her feet, throwing her backwards into the old stone wall. She bounced off it like a rag doll, banging her head as she was flung precariously towards the river Swale. Lindsay grabbed at trees and clumps of grass to stop herself from falling into the water and finally made contact with a low hanging branch. She clung on for dear life, her toes dangling just above the river. Branches and leaves hurtled past her like missiles. Helpless and afraid, Lindsay clung to the branch and prayed.

Dead of July – Amazon – My first novel “Dead of July” was released in December 2013 and is available for $0.99 on Amazon. Yes, it’s a bargain, but I’m a relatively unknown writer and would like everyone to get to know me. I’d love your feedback. 

Preview – Dead of July

 

 

Making Bombs by the River

plumpton01The Military Police arrived first. They screeched to a halt a couple of hundred feet away from the pub. A crowd had already gathered there. Lindsay and Michael sat on a fence a ways back from everyone else and watched.

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, if that had been a bomb it would have exploded by now.” Michael said.

“Are you sure you should be here? I mean with your Irish accent and all. You know they’re going to be suspicious. The Irish aren’t too popular in these parts at the moment.”

“If I leave now it will be even more suspicious.”

A voice came from the bushes. “Michael!”

Lindsay and Michael looked at each other.

“Over here, it’s me, John.”

Michael didn’t look over his shoulder. Instead he kept his eyes on the Military Police as he answered quietly.

“What are you doing here? Get away or they’ll think you did this.”

Lindsay froze! She wanted to look around, but daren’t. The MP’s were heading their way.

“I just want you to know this wasn’t me.”

“John I know, Patrick’s around, we saw him. Now go”

They didn’t hear John disappear, which is just as well. A local Police car pulled up in front of them and Barbara, along with another Policeman got out.

“I see you two have become friends.”

“Hi Barbara. Not exactly friends, we’re helping each other.” Lindsay replied. She looked at Michael, who looked uncomfortable and ready to run.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, Michael has nothing to do with any of this.”

Barbara fixed her gaze on Michael. “What do you have to say for yourself? Do you deserve Lindsay’s trust?”

Michael looked up. “I hope so. I’m trying to help her. I need to get my facts straight before I talk to you. I don’t want to waste your time. I mean no harm.”

The Policeman accompanying Barbara looked at Michael suspiciously when he heard him speak. He put his hand on his radio. Barbara saw the movement. “Stuart it’s okay, we don’t need backup, and I know this kid. He means no harm.” Then she looked a Lindsay. “Mel’s funeral is tomorrow right? I’ll be there, in the background watching. I don’t think it’s a good idea for your new friend to be there do you?”

“No I don’t.”

“Dear God, do you think I’d really go? I have more respect for these families than you would ever know.”

Barbara looked at him suspiciously. “I want to see both of you in the Richmond cop shop before the end of the week. The day after the funeral would be good. If I don’t see you Michael, I’ll come looking for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

Barbara looked at them both. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

They both swung their legs over the fence and disappeared into the bushes.

Barbara looked at her colleague, “Not a word about this, I think letting them do their own thing for now will help us. Lindsay lost all of her friends in that bloody disco. She’s not going to hand out with a terrorist.”

“Okay, it’s your call.”

Down by the river, in a secluded place, Patrick sat alone. He had a Tescos bag between his legs. It was filled with everything he needed to make another bomb. Anyone watching him would believe he was talking to himself and give him a wide berth. In view of the plastic explosives he carried, that would be a good idea.

“Colleen my love, I’ll be with you soon, but not before I blow a couple more of these bastards to oblivion.”

A voice whispered through the trees. I can wait! I love you!

Patrick smiled!

Dead of July

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Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

 

Death in the Shadows

ColleenMichael gently backed Lindsay away from the door before closing it. He held her tightly until the tears subsided. It took a while. Eventually, when she was calm, Michael pulled away and gently lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. Lindsay wouldn’t look at him.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s alright, I guess I came just at the right time. You needed someone.”

Lindsay took a deep breath and let Michael go.

“I’m not sure if there will ever be a right time again.”

Michael led her to the sofa and sat down next to her taking both of her hands in his.

“Living through something like this isn’t easy. Believe me, I know.”

“I lost all of my friends,” she whispered, “that’s bad, but there are other things happening. It’s getting worse, much worse. I think the dead are coming back for me!”

She sobbed again, her whole body shaking. “Maybe it’s a good thing. Why should I be the only one left alive?”

Michael put his arm around her “Come on now, you are alive, and you should be grateful.”

“Michael I think I’m losing my mind. I keep dreaming about my best friend Mel, and when I wake up the dream lingers, I see her. Her awful burned face haunts me. I saw her in the interview room at the police station.”

“It’s stress and nerves. You feel guilty because you survived. It’ll pass.”

“No, I don’t think it will.”

“Lindsay, it will, I’m sure. Let me tell you something about my brother, he….”

“I don’t want to hear about your goddamn brother right now. I’m scared and I haven’t finished,” she spat the words out and Michael jumped, alarmed at her ferocity.

Lindsay picked up the pad from the floor and dropped it on his lap.

“Barbara, the young police woman, told me to write down my fears and emotions because I refused to see a shrink. Go on, read them.”

“Okay, this seems reasonable, I’ve heard of people doing this before, it usually helps.”

“Michael read the last line.”

HELP ME

“You’re asking for help.”

“I didn’t write that.”

“Who did?”

“I had another visitor, a young woman with an Irish accent.”

“What, just now, before I came? Who was she?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know, I never saw her face, only heard her voice.”

“What?”

The room grew colder again and the shadows deepened.

The whispering began, it surrounded them “Michael, Michael, Michael. I see you……Michael where is he, where’s your brother. Where’s John, where’s my Johnny boy?”

Michael froze.

“Colleen?”

Try my novel Dead of July. Available as an ebook or paperback on Amazon.

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

 

Dear Diary – They’re all Dead and Gone!

diaryLindsay’s world calmed down for a couple of days. No more visits from Michael, no more visits from the local police. She sat at home, alone, her head full of awful thoughts. Her parents were due home from France the day before Mel’s funeral, well what remained of Mel. It must have been an awful task for Mel’s parents, identifying the charred remains of their beloved daughter. Lindsay was glad she didn’t have to do it. She’d seen more than enough of Mel since the fire.

Barbara, the WPC, called a couple of times every day. “If you won’t go to see a therapist, or your doctor, keep a diary. Write down your fears and frustrations, that’s what I did when Scott was killed. It helped. It made me cry, but it helped.”

Lindsay took an old notepad left over from her school days and began to write.

Dear Diary,

I have no friends. I’m only twenty and I want to die. Mel was my best friend. Is it my fault she died? I didn’t start the fire, but I had bad thoughts in my head. I was jealous and it made me twisted. Mel was so natural and funny and popular with the boys. I never felt that way. I never found a boy I could trust. They all want to shove their hands in places they shouldn’t. I’m a romantic, I want more. Now all I want is to die. If my death would bring my friend back, I’d kill myself now. I don’t deserve to live. 

Lindsay sat back on her chair and thought Mel. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued to write.

Mel, I promise I will do all I can to help the police find out who did this. I miss you. You were pretty and funny and I loved you like a sister, even if I didn’t show it. You were the only person in the world who was nice to me. You put up with my weirdness. You knew why I was the way I was. I never told anyone about my dad and the things he did. I only told you. You were my friend and I wish I’d died instead of you.

The shadows in the room grew darker. Lindsay tried to get up and switch on the light, but she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed. The room became cold, darkness seeped from the corners to envelop the room. She could barely breathe. I need a therapist, the diary isn’t working! I need pills, lots of pills. Maybe I can end this misery with pills.

A gentle voice whispered her name. “Lindsay, I need your help.”

“What?”

“The fire, it wasn’t meant to kill so many.”

“Who’s speaking to me? Were you killed in the fire too?”

“No!”

Lindsay strained her eyes trying to see into the darkness, but to no avail. The room warmed up, the shadows faded and Lindsay sat alone. She picked up the pad she’d been using, not sure if she wanted to write any more.

HELP ME

Did I write that?

The pad slipped from her hands as she ran to the door, she needed sunlight and fresh air. When she yanked the door open Michael was standing there. Lindsay flung her arms around him and burst into tears. She needed someone right now and he would do.

I enjoy my blog stories, I hope you do too. My first novel Dead of July is available on Amazon. 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson