Falling Stones

Brigid stared up at the large mansion before her, giving the slightest of shivers in the cool air. The heat had died down, but the moisture from the swampland around the property had retained some of the warmth, leading to a bizarre feeling of being both cold and sweltering in the same moment.

She reached back into her car, pulling out her laptop case and travel bag, eager to get upstairs and into bed after the long trip. "Honey, I'm home," She called to the empty mansion, dropping her bag somewhere in the foyer, intent on tracking it back down in the morning.

She headed up the long, winding staircase, bypassing the grand landing of the second floor and continuing up the shaky, metal stairs that lead to the third floor, trying to remember when the contractors were coming back to actually build a staircase instead of leaving this make-shift contraption that was one day going to kill her.

Yawning, she turned the handle to her room, coughing at the clouds of dust her footsteps sent into the air. She flopped back on her sheet covered bed, too tired to bother removing the dust covering before curling on her side, frowning at the blinking lights of the answering machine. "Oh do goo away," she muttered, before rolling over onto her other side, yawning against as her eyes started to close.