Open & Closed Doors
There's no one there. She glances around. Nobody. She calls out. Nothing. She come back in and throws the door closed and locks it.
Then she makes her way towards the kitchen. She doesn't have time to mess about. She too tired to put up with anybody fooling around.
She opens the cupboard above the sink and brings down a mug. After flicking the kettle on she grabs a teabag. The kettle whistles as she puts two teaspoons of sugar then the teabag in her mug. She fills the mug three quarters of the way with boiling water then puts in a bit of milk.
As she stirs her tea, she hears a thin, whining howl. She stops, listening out. Hearing nothing, she continues to stir, the spoon clinking against the mug.
She stops again. There it is again. The spoon fall into the mug as she moves towards the kitchen door.
From the bottom of the stairs she looks down the passage to the front door. It's slightly ajar, cold air rushing into the house. She walks back over to the door. It creaks as she pushs it open.
I did close it, didn't I? She looks out over the wide, winding driveway. I definitely closed it. And locked ut as well.
A curtain of driving rain blurs the jagged hills. Water drips steadily through the gaps in the roof of the porch. She pokes her head out of the doorway to look left and right. Nothing.
Nothing but a pearlescent jewel. Every colour possible swirls together like a hurricane. Again, she looks around. She leans out to pick up the jewel. Spots of obsidian bloom where her fingers touch it. As her hand closes around it, an explosive cloud of grey and black clouds the jewel.
She sets it down on the kitchen table and goes about her day as normal, making sure the front door is properly locked before leaving the house.