The sound of violent drops of rain hammering against the window pane drew her attention. She rose to her feet and went to stare out into the secluded garden. The faint rumble of thunder in the distance held her focus momentarily, but as she counted silently in her head, awaiting the inevitable flash of lightning with a ripple of anticipation, a movement out of the corner of her eye wrenched her gaze away from the gathering storm.
The woman watched in horrified fascination as the ballpoint pen she had left on the table rose into the air, quivering from side to side before it descended, hovering instead over the paper she had carelessly discarded there earlier in the day.
Barely believing the evidence of her own eyes, she crossed the room on shaking legs and leaned over the table, staring incredulously at the pen as it began to scratch out some marking on the blank page – markings that were, to her amazement, beginning to form words. Taking a seat, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap and sat back to read the words that were being written.
Another one to add to the list of plot bunnies eager to be unleashed....