Rachel woke up with a start. The storm had gathered force and there was a lone window banging somewhere. The wind whooshed around the turrets and through the crevices in the ancient stone walls. The walls were crumbling in places and she could sometimes hear loose stones rattling down the sides of the huge castle. She could hear voices when she walked along the passages of the magnificent house. It was just such a night when she had first dreamt of her new house, this castle. Her wealthy suitor was surprised to have her hand so fast in marriage. So, here she was, a few months later, in the historic, rambling house with an army of servants at her beck and call. And now she had dreamt of a pool of blood.
She didn’t even flinch as she heard the blood curdling scream.
Word Count: 143. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, a photo prompt challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy.