Don’t Blame it on the Moonlight (Just the beginning of a short story - estimated length 1000+)

Don’t Blame it on the Moonlight
‘Well if it wasn’t the moonlight, I don’t know what it was. One minute I was fast asleep and the next wide awake and staring at the view from my window. The curtains were wide open, the moonlight bright enough to see everything and right in the middle of a flower bed was this tall, hooded figure beckoning me.’
‘He didn’t have a scythe did he?’ My sister Jen was always ready to take the piss.
‘No he didn’t – do shut up and listen –and I’m not sure it was a man even. It could have been a woman, and since it didn’t feel threatening I wanted to know what was going on.’
‘So you got out of bed and went out into the garden.’
‘Well, yes, I did. I put something on my feet first.’
‘Good thinking Sis. There’s been many a magnificent adventure ruined by standing on a slug.’
‘For goodness sake keep quiet. I shan’t tell you any more if you keep on interrupting.’
‘I’m sorry, but you have to admit it all sounds a bit funny.’
This conversation was taking place a few days after the happening that had so disturbed me and I was still feeling unsettled and in no mood to laugh about it.
I’d left the house through the back door, but in the time I took to wrestle with the keys to open it, the figure had disappeared. A flash of movement near the garden wall made me think my summoner might be leaving through the door into the alley, but when I reached it, I found it firmly locked. ‘Who’s there?’ I called, my voice echoing eerily. ‘Where are you?’, but no one answered.
A gusty wind was whipping my nightdress round my ankles and I was beginning to feel cold. No point in hanging about, I thought, and prepared to go back inside. Just as I did so, there was a loud bang, and when I reached it, I found the back door firmly shut. The wind must have blown it closed and it had obligingly locked itself. I cursed my stupidity in failing to leave the door on the snib, but it was too late for that. I was firmly locked out in the middle of the night and getting uncomfortably cold.
There was nothing for it, I was going to have to find somewhere to spend the rest of the night, or somehow get hold of a key. I’m not the sort of person who leaves a key under a flowerpot or unconvincing stone, but my good friend Lil had one and I was sure she’d give me shelter. If only she didn’t live so far away, I thought ruefully as I made for the front gate.

I like the way you handle the initial dialogue, definitely one of your strengths and the switch into the story telling works too. We know the narrator is OK though, a couple of days later and she is talking to her sister so not dead or in hospital. You tell us she is disturbed and unsettled but it still feels quite comfortable. The door locking behind her is all too real but wouldn’t she try a neighbour rather than walking ‘so far away’ in her nightdress.

Good point Graham. This is only the first draft but I'll try to include the neighbour(s) next time through.