Ghost

It started with the wind. It was the sound like the sea makes in rough weather. But there was something metallic to the sound, something man made, yet at distance. It didn't get closer, though, like she expected it to. Something large, a lorry perhaps, moving along the lane to drop off a shipment of something to one of the houses further down than her's. It never came closer and that's what made her wonder more.

Then it changed to shapes and shadows in the gloom outside her window, when the night wasn't dark enough for black but the day not light enough for clarity and they moved, the shapes. She assumed at first that it was the shadows of clouds. Then that is was some atmospheric quirk but somewhere, deep inside herself, her soul groaned with dread because she knew it wasn't natural and that this wouldn't be then end.

Time is up.
I left it late tonight and therefore it was harder and I wrote less and thought about the structure and words less.
The inspiration came from the sight of book near my bed called, The Penguin Book of Ghosts, so I thought ghost story. Didn't turn into much, though did it? The merest sigh of a story.