The thunder crashed again, reverberating around the old house. She flinched, enjoying the fierceness of the storm but shocked by the volume and intensity. Now I’ll find out if the roof leaks, she thought wryly.
Moving to this remote shoreline had seemed like a good idea in the sunshine of late summer. The sea glowing blue; inviting, welcoming. Now the deep greys and blacks of the sky met an equally grey sea. Stay away, it said.
In the flickering candlelight she waited. A feeling of anticipation clung to her, and it was all she could do to remain where she was, calm and expectant. The urge to run was strong.
The house had been empty for a while, they said. And, yes, there was a sense of abandonment in the dusty air; of lives lived and stories left unspoken. But more, there was a sense of possibility, of renewal, of second chances. She had walked around the house, her house, opening shutters and ripping down tattered curtains to let the light flood in, and she had felt hope.
Another draught caught the candle flame and shadows danced across the room. Such pretty patterns, she thought to herself, reminded of another time, other flames. Lost in memories, she shivered, as the storm continued to howl around the house.
The thunder crashed again, and she waited.
You can find this weeks #ThePrompt linky here. I do hope this prompt inspired you; I look forward to reading your posts.