Words for Wednesday is a weekly writing prompt designed to get us motivated. Anyone can join in on any day of the week and use some, all or none of the prompt.
This week the prompt is provided by River of Drifting Through Life (you can find her in my sidebar).
dusk, apples, sauce, knitting, amethyst, window
itching, silk, gossamer, security, exquisite and turbulent
A dark shadow loomed at the top of the stairs.
"So, you're still alive. And talking to yourself. Tough old bird aren't you? It's too bad. Now I have to figure out a way to finish you off."
The door on the landing slammed shut and Grace could hear heavy bolts being thrown. The air in the basement was turbulent with pulsating energy.
The gusty voice she had become accustomed to trembled with anger when it asked if she knew who the intruder was.
"Alan, my nephew." she replied softly. ' He always was a nasty little devil. He's the only family I have left and I've left him everything in my will. I guess he's in a bit of a hurry."
"You've got to get out of here. Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it. There's a window in the far corner behind the wood furnace."
Grace rested against the cellar wall and thoughtfully observed a beautiful amethyst spider spinning its exquisite silken, gossamer strands. "I don't think I can climb out of a window. I'm no spring chicken you know. What is that smell? Oh Lordie....that's gasoline."
Grace got shakily to her feet and clasped her head with both hands.
"Where's that window? I have to try."
She could see that it was dusk now. It would be a good cover for an attempted escape.
"Try hard." the gusty voice urged.
A few boxes pushed under the window gave Grace the lift required to reach her goal. The glass had been broken out years ago. She turned to grin at the empty cellar. "Pretty poor security, eh?" Suddenly she hopped off the boxes and, reaching into the corner picked up the spider she had been admiring. "No need for you to suffer poor thing."
A loud whoosh from upstairs sent Grace scrambling quickly through the window and into the fresh air. She turned hesitantly back toward the opening. "What about you?" she asked softly.
"Don't worry about me. Nothing can hurt me anymore and I have a few surprises for our friend Alan."
As Grace hustled through the woods in the dying light she muttered to herself, "Lordie I'm just itching to get back to my little place. I'll have some supper and some of that applesauce I made this morning and then settle down with my knitting to calm myself. But first....I'm going to call the police and turn that young whipper snapper in. Oh yes, and I think my days of exploring empty old houses is over.