Nazi Zombies!

Overlord

So it started out like any other WWII movie. Showed promise with good actors! I’m not saying its a bad movie, but what could be worse than fighting Zombies?

FIGHTING NAZI ZOMBIES!

Yes my friends, if you want to watch a horror movie, Overlord is definitely heart stopping and intense.

The British Army – Dark Angel – The Fight

Desert Rats“Dad!” I whispered. I felt his presence, I felt his love.

“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, leave this child alone.” It was father Angelo.

Never, she’s almost mine, you lost your battle, your God is no match for me. 

Her voice weakened as she spoke, faded. Was she losing her hold on me? I was no longer in pain.

Tommy guns shattered the silence. I coughed and peered though a cloud of dust at the line of military vehicles that came to a halt in front of me. Soldiers spilled out, running to safety. They fired at something I couldn’t see.

“Trust in God, he’s the only one who can help you now.” Was it father Angelo? What was happening to me? Was I dying? Where was I?

A dark figure rose from the dusty mess. Black wings flapped angrily. Red eyes glowing fiercely. You don’t play fair, you bring in an army of dead men, men I can’t hurt. You may win this battle, but I WILL be back. The war isn’t over, not by a long way.

She hovered above the gunfire, her image fading, for what felt like an eternity. The forces fighting her were too strong. Her red eyes focused on the young soldiers, but she couldn’t harm them. These good men had already perished fighting for their country. Above the sound of the Tommy guns I heard prayers. Two different voices praying loudly and sincerely. I recognized one as Father Angelo, the other was my Uncle, the Army Padre.

“For the Love of God be gone.” I heard them say in Unison. “Go back to where you came from, leave this earth, leave it now.”

I watched the dark shape disintegrate and become part of the dust cloud. Red eyes disappeared. The sound of gun fire stopped and they soldiers cheered.

A single figure walked towards me, lighting a cigarette as he approached.

“Dad?”

“Yes pet, its me. Did she really think she could survive the British Army? She’s nothing compared to the evil man the Germans call their Führer.”

“Dad, hold me.” I begged, but I knew he couldn’t, his image faded, along with the young soldiers he fought with. Soon all that was left was a blue smoke ring from his favorite cigarettes, but I felt his smile.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my story about Lucy, and her fight with the Dark Angel. It’s almost done, one more instalment to go. My first novel Dead of July is available on Amazon. 

Dead of July by Sandra Thompson

London Blitz – A Tribute to Wilf (my dad)

https://www.amazon.com/author/sandra

Yesterday I conquered ‘Create Space’.

Today I set up my own Author Page on Amazon. Once I start writing my next novel, I won’t have time for things like this.

My next book was originally started in 1940 by my Dad, George Wilfred Newman. I am not totally sure what I am going to call it , but my Dad called it ‘September’. It is about the Blitz.

Below is the foreward, written by my dad on thin paper, using a type writer. It was mailed to his father, my granddad.

My dad didn’t think he would make it home from the war and wanted someone to read, and finish this story for him. I read his type written story and dictated it onto my computer. It is my next project.

Foreward

By G.W. Newman

I was stationed in Surrey at the time of the great blitz on London and as was the case with many I seem to be carrying a great load on my mind.  Threat of invasion and the horrors of mutilated and torn bodies, the continuous crash and thunder of high explosives and the scream of the sirens were taking their toll on men and women and little children, turning the minds of every mortal soul into chaos. People were not themselves. In place of decency and common sense tympanic rape and madness and people were crazy for some relief from this continuous horror. Let no one condemn us we were in our hour of trial and did not fail we weathered the storm as best we could, knowing that our turn would come.

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Finishing this book will be quite a project. My dad did make it home safely from the war, but never finished his book. He kept what he had written though, and gave it to me. My dad had no way of knowing that I would become a writer.

Now it is my pleasure, and my duty, to finish this book for him. It is not going to be easy, but I will give it a try.