I was lying on a bed in the medical station. Naturally, I panicked – bear in mind that all I could remember was the night before – and so I screamed and kicked and punched the air, wanting, hoping to wake up. Then I heard the horse’s hooves. My eyes darted in the direction of the clip–clop, towards the sound that took me to the utmost depths of fear. The faintest light was visible just outside the station. I stood up and walked towards it. I don’t know why I did.
I went outside and there it was.
This is a section of a spooky short story I wrote called The Nighthorse. I decided to adapt it for screen a few years ago, because I love ghosts and other-worldly creatures, and and I was delighted that it was shortlisted for the Sir Peter Ustinov Television Scriptwriting Award.