Ghostly Romance Anthology, Volume One

Plaisted Publishing House

Presents

Ghostly Romance Anthology

Volume One

Copyright 2019 Ghostly Writers

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Contents

A short story about the cover – Claire Plaisted

Ode to Love – A poem by M J Mallon

A Good Son by Karen Mossman

A Highland Haunting by Dan McAteer

Dream Threads by C A Keith

Frost of Heart by Michael Lynes

Reunited at Last by C L Williams

Winged Secrets by Mara Reitsma

Pride and Witchery by Cathy-Lee Chopping

Ed’s Shadow Poetry – A poem by M J Mallon

Author Links

True Love

By Claire Plaisted

She stepped out of the cottage her bare feet curling into the grit as she stumbled forward down the drive. The cold night air wrapping around her pulling her further away from the cottage. Her hand moved back as if to grab hold of something but her body propelled her forward, faster and faster until she was running down the street toward the sweet-smelling ocean.

Arriving she looked out, hunting for the man she loved, the man she wanted over everyone else. Nothing was to be seen except the crash of the waves on the shore. The wind drifted through her long limp hair now damp from the misty rain—which she’d not noticed. She stepped on the pebble beach walking to the shore the ice-cold waves washing over her feet and ankles. Not that she cared.

She walked along the shore, the waves got bigger, the rain heavier. She didn’t notice the water rising at first until it hit her thighs. She looked down in shock then smiled splashing the water with her hands, whirling around and dancing through the water until she stopped. Someone called her name. She looked out over the ocean with a smile seeing her lover and walked towards him. Everything else forgotten. She was happy now, reunited with her one true love.

Ode to Love

Love is ethereal

A spark of brilliance

Brimming with possibilities

Delicate, it survives

We long to believe

Its eternal truth

Like a spectre

We seek its beauty

Once awaken it never dies.

By M J Mallon

A Good Son

By Karen J Mossman

It all started when I was at Pedro’s house as we made out on the sofa. My head was back, my neck stretched in pleasure and when I opened my eyes, there was his mother looking through the window.

My name is Cassidy Newbold, Cassie for short, and I don’t think any of us recovered from that as I made a quick exit. Now as I lay in bed, I feared I was drowning. My eyes wouldn’t open, not that I wanted them to. Carefully I dipped out my tongue, jiggled it about and was rewarded with the strong taste of chocolate. Hmmm! My senses came alive as it rose up my neck until it covered my entire head. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would drown.

But how could I resist chocolate? It’s my favourite time of year. As my tongue ventured out again, I expected to feel luxurious velvety creaminess, but instead, my eyes snapped open and it was all a dream. I was nose to nose with Pedro and his brown eyes were looking at me.

Good morning! he said. Happy Easter!

He brought his hand up and perched on his finger was a fluffy yellow chick. Not a real one, of course. Its wired feet were wrapped around his finger. He bobbed it a couple of times.

As I focused on it and then him, his eyes flicked sideways. There on the dressing table was a huge chocolate egg with a big red bow.

I shrieked and leapt out of bed, pulling down my short nightdress as I went. Grabbing the egg, I kissed it. I loved Easter! Pedro was now sitting up bare-chested with an amused expression on his handsome face. Remembering my manners, I skipped back and sat on him, thanking him personally for my special gift.

Just as we were getting into it, his phone rang and sighing I fell back against the pillow. I have to take this, he said, stabbing the button with his finger. Hello, Mother.

Once more she had come between us, she was constantly ringing, usually at the most inopportune moments. Actually, she didn’t even need an inopportune moment to do that. She just rang.

Can you bring home some milk? I heard her say through the phone. What are you doing? When will you be back?" It was always the same.

I was sick of his mum. Apart from that day, where I did a quick hop, skip and jump out of the front door, I hadn’t met her, and I already didn’t like her.

-o-

I’m a physic, a medium or clairvoyant, whatever you want to call me. There are some aspects of my gift I don’t like. One of them is suicide. So when the mum of a victim wanted me to accompany her to the place where her daughter died, I already had misgivings. That’s another problem, I find it hard to say no especially when someone is distressed.

The circumstances of this one were not pleasant, not that any suicide is. Jess Turner, a girl who seemed to have a lot to live for had ended her life horrifically. It had been in all the papers. I remember sitting in the Dandelion Café reading about it over a cup of coffee.

Jess, whose pretty face had stared up at me from the photograph, wasn’t much older than I was. She had one child, a husband, and a loving family - and a dark secret. One day she took herself to the local park, sat on a bench, doused herself in petrol, and lit a match.

Calling it a tragedy doesn’t do it justice. Everything about it was horrific. I wasn’t sure I wanted to communicate with such a troubled and demented soul. You had to be demented to do something like that. I’m sure there were easier ways to die.

So why her mum wanted to come to this place, was beyond me. I met her after work, at the park gates, it was already dusk and the sky was a dark leaden colour. I didn’t know her but guessed she was the lady clutching a flower.

Cassie? She came forward to meet me.

Hello, you must be Sandra.

Yes. Thank you for agreeing to come.

What would you like me to do? You know I can’t promise anything, don’t you?

She nodded as we walked together down the path. I know, but I have to try. I’ve brought this along. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a hair bobble. This is hers and she wore it the last time I saw her.

I looked at it but didn’t take it. Okay, let’s wait till we get there. Do you know where it is?

Not really, she said putting the bobble back in her pocket. I had a vision of us wandering around in the park after dark trying to find this bench.

-o-

Back with Pedro, our relationship took a worrying turn. My mother wants to meet you, he announced one day while we were making a drink in my kitchen.

My stomach did a flip. Why?

Why not? You’re my girlfriend, and you can’t hide from her forever.

I can, I said filling two cups with tea and taking them to the sofa. My flat was small, with a lounge and a kitchen to one side. Another door led to the bedroom, off which a small bathroom led off it.

She wants to meet you properly. He slurped his drink and then placed it on the table before sitting on the sofa. Cassie, we’ve been seeing each other for over a month. I’ve met your brother, so it’s only fair you meet her.

I have met her, I said sitting next to him.

I mean properly, not just a wave of your hand as you disappeared.

Pedro, darling, I don’t think I could look her in the eye, I said staring at him.

He laughed, Do you think she’s never had sex? How do you think me and my sister were born?

I slapped his thigh, That’s not what I mean. You’re a mummy’s boy, Pedro, and I’m just competition.

He looked indignant. I am not!

Yes, you are. How many other twenty-eight-year-olds do you know still living with their mums?

A lot. It’s practical. Especially since Chantelle disappeared. Anyway, she wants you to come for dinner and I said yes.

Oh, Pedro! You didn’t! Why didn’t you ask me first? I folded my arms as if protecting myself from his words.

I just did.

Except that you’ve already committed me.

Oh stop being a grump! I stuck my bottom lip out childishly. I had every reason to be a grump because I didn’t have a choice now.

-o-

It wasn’t difficult to find the park bench as they cordoned it off with police tape. The actual bench had been removed, but the blackened tarmac remained. There were a lot of flowers beside it with a variety of messages.

‘Miss you so much.’ ‘I’m sorry this happened.’ ‘You’ll be forever in my heart.’ Every one of them heart-breaking. I tried to keep my eyes averted and not read any of them. I didn’t want to feel their grief.

Sandra lay down her flower and then dug into her pocket for the hair bobble. I took it and as soon as it touched my skin, I was consumed with feelings of guilt. Not only did the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, Goosebumps flooded my arms and shoulders. I felt a piercing heat burn my bones. So much so, I almost lost balance. Sandra’s hand touched my arm, and I grabbed her wrist to steady myself.

Unable to speak, I nodded as the spirit of Jess filled me. Her last seconds of life were horrific. The moment she lit the flame, she panicked as the scorching heat became unbearable. She tried to beat it out, but it spread quickly. Her screaming filled the air, and I tightened my grip on Sandra’s wrist trying to endure it. Her pain became mine, and the terrible secret she’d tried to keep was not so bad, at least not bad enough to kill herself for.

In the last few moments of life, she felt a deep sense of regret, not for what she had done, but for this dreadful end she’d assumed was her way out.

There was no time for tears or escape, one moment she was Jess and the next she was burning embers and bone fragments.

I opened my eyes and was crying as Sandra looked at me with alarm.

What did you see? What happened? She asked worriedly.

I couldn’t tell her how I watched her daughter burn in agony. She was so ashamed, I said wiping my face and bringing myself back under control.

Did she say anything else?

I picked up on her addiction to other men, I said tactfully.

Sandra’s face paled. I know about that. She didn’t have to kill herself for it, she said in a voice that sounded like a grumble. What else did she say?

At the last minute, she regretted her action.

Yes? she said expecting more.

I looked back at the charcoal coloured ground and at the trees behind. The birds sang their goodnight melody, and I sighed. Such a beautiful place to have witnessed such a sad ending.

But, but, did she say anything else? Mention anything at all? Sandra persisted.

I turned to look at her, the hair bobble still twirling around my fingers. What were you expecting?

I wanted her to tell me where she hid the rest of her Grandfather’s money. He left it all to her in his will, but we don’t know what she did with it. I was hoping... She trailed off, seeing the look on my face.

I handed her back the bobble. I think we’re done here, I told her, as the night air turned chilly. There were no ghosts here.

-o-

Pedro’s mum held out her hand. Hello, my dear, nice to meet you at last. Do come in. Her red hair was back-combed, and she wore a lot of makeup with dark red lipstick, red nails and a pair of twisted gold hooped earrings. I wondered if she was trying to recapture her youth, or making a statement to say she wasn’t old yet.

I could feel the blush rise up from my neck at the thought of her seeing me in the throes of an orgasm.

Pedro, my mijito, she greeted, a Spanish word of endearment. There is wine in the kitchen, go and get it while Cassie and I get to know one another. Oh and turn down the oven while you’re there.

She took my hand and led me into a back room. It was decorated with Spanish culture in mind. You will have an apéritif before dinner, won’t you? She said it in such a way it was difficult to refuse.

Now, tell me all about you and what you can see.

Really? W-what would you like to know? I asked not wishing to tell her anything. Where was Pedro?

Well, you see ghosts, don’t you? Pedro has told me about it and I want to hear it from you. I’m so fascinated.

Erm, well, only when they want me to, the ghosts I mean.

Ah yes, perhaps if I give you something of Chantelle’s?

Here we go. "Mrs.