Experiment in Writing

She lay in bed staring at the ceiling. There were noises coming from the walls, from the ceiling. Her colleagues had assured her was just the pipes. These old houses were bound to have more than their share of noises and things that go bump in the night. Somehow the strange noises seemed to have a meaning, some sort of intelligence behind them. For the umpteenth time she wondered if leaving everything she had ever known to take a teaching position overseas had been a mistake.