Fiction
The Lonely House
A drabble
Today’s random word is coast.

Beware of the ghosts. If you are brave enough to stick around, please highlight, clap and comment.
The lonely house sat atop a cliff on the Scottish coast, waves crashing far below, gulls keening far above.
Peter approached along the single-track road, dark clouds gathering above. A shiver passed unexpectedly down his back. Ghost stories had been told about this place for over two hundred years. Peter didn’t believe them, but he couldn’t control his fear.
Finally, he was at the front door. A grey face appeared in the window to his right, staring blankly at him. Then, it smiled. The malevolence was palpable. A hand reached through the glass. No living soul heard Peter’s scream.
This Drabble (a story of exactly 100 words) is written in response to this prompt from Nancy Oglesby:
I have reduced tagging to only a few writers each day, but I will still go through the list of my favourite drabble writers over time. If you want to be notified of my drabble stories each day (and others I write), please subscribe to receive my stories.
Today I am tagging:
Michael Rhodes, Maria Rattray, Randy Pulley
If you are a poet or want to have a go at poetry, please become a writer for my new publication, Poetry Playground. You’d be very welcome. I share a weekly prompt, and general submissions are invited too.
