House Of Bones And Smoke

The year 2025 felt strange to Lyra. Twenty-five years old, with long brown hair that caught red tints in the light, and blue eyes like an ocean, she stood five feet one inch tall in a long black dress and red boots.

She stepped out of the car, a suitcase in hand, and approached the house at 621 Basil Road, the one her grandmother, Lyssa Amelia Doyle, had left her. The gate creaked, though Lyra, born deaf and without a cochlear implant, couldn't hear it.

It had been years since she'd played here as a child. As her gaze swept over the familiar facade, a figure materialized in the living room window. Lyra assumed it was the deed owner, ready to greet her. She turned to lock her car, and when she looked back, the figure was gone. She brushed it off, thinking the person had simply moved elsewhere to await her entry. Clutching her bag, Lyra walked to the door, unlocking it with the key she'd received at the will meeting.

She stepped inside, expecting to see someone, but the house was empty. She checked every room, even the garden, but found no one.