There is little more frightening in the world than an unexpected letter from a lawyer. It was in an envelope the color of stale cream, just laying in her mailbox. Penelope pulled it out like the metaphorical bomb that it was. She was not familiar with the name of the law firm that was neatly printed upon the envelope. Worries and worse case scenarios funneled through her mind, as she walked backup the stair case to her apartment. Was this from a previous landlord? Was she being sued for some arbitrary reason? Dread of the potential financial ruin made her fingers tremble as she opened the envelope.

She read through it twice before she collapsed into a chair and propped her elbows on dinner table. It was a notice of the death of a cousin, Sarah Roberson who had died recently. The lawyer Mr. Smythe, was the executor of her estate and was reaching out because she had an inheritance due to her and she would get in contact with their office to start the paperwork. She had to get up and get a cup of coffee to help calm down from the emotional whiplash. This was frankly to good to be true, Penelope thought as she looked at it and thought of her three months of unemployment, the notice that that it had just run out last week attached to the fridge with a magnet. It may have been the optimist in her that had her pull out her phone and she searched for the name of the law firm. She was relieved to find out that Gutierrez and Smythe was a real law firm, and a little surprised when it turned out that they normally specialized in real estate. She looked more into it and it she found news paper articles about cases that they had been involved in. It looked genuinely legitimate, Penelope looked around at her barren economy apartment and figured, well she had nothing to lose.

She went out to their office the next day, after scheduling a time to go out there. It was a low building more long than tall, the name of the Law Firm in dark green above the door. Penelope walked in and was greeted by soft cream walls and a perky receptionist who waved her to the couch after taking her name. She was there less than ten minutes before Mr. Smythe came out to meet her. He was a short man, about an inch or so shorter than her, so she had to tilt her head down to meet his eyes.

“Ms. Ryans, thank you for coming. Please come into my office.”

The two of them went into the office and they went over the will. She got the house and everything within it as well as the four acres behind it. Mr. Smythe explained that Sarah had been attempting to set up an orchard before her death. In less than an hour she was given a copy of the property deed, the keys and the paperwork to transfer the property was being prepared. He suggested that she go and look at the property before she decided what she wanted to do with it.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The next morning she went out and while the sky was still grey she saw the house for the first time. It was like the Winchester house met a metal fetishist and the house was the result. It was painted electric blue accented with steel and corroded copper. As she walked to the front door from the drive way she could see that the Mailbox was perched atop of twisted pedestal of metal roots, the theme was follows with a few lights, which had hanging lanterns. The door was black and when she unlocked and opened it she found that it was heavy, and the walls usually thick.

If she had to describe the inside of the entry hall, cluttered would be the word. The two sides of the halls were mirrored, literally as there were two round mirrors on both walls. They were positioned in such a way that when looking into one your reflection went into infinity. Below the mirrors were two long tables that was filed with statuettes with a wide silver plate on the right table. There were still keys resting on it. She picked them up and was amused to note the keys were capped with neon plastic skulls. She pocketed them and moved deeper into the house.

There were two doors further in when she opened the door to the right she could see a large dining room and through it an archway the kitchen. When she opened the left door she could see a library with a spiral staircase. She looked back and forth and mentally got to Miney before going left and into the library. It was wall to wall bookcases, that were overflowing. The only pattern to the organization seemed to be the size, large hardback books up top with paperbacks down at the bottom. The room was lit by a ceiling lamp and four standing lamps, each in roughly the same baroque bronze style. As she walked in further she could see couches that may have fallen of off a truck and to the right another door. When she opened that door, she was greeted with the sunlight as this room was a sun room with little ceramic flowers over every surface. Pulling her head out she started up the stair case.

As she walked it started to groan, but it held steady as she reached the second floor. She checked the rooms up here most of them were what looked like guest bedrooms, each one themed. At the end of the long hall she had two more doors. The right one opened into an over stuffed study, papers were strew every where. Curiously she walked in and picked up a pile of papers. These were letters addressed to Sarah. The first one on top was a letter about how the color and the hideous decorations were bringing down the value of the neighbor hood, the next one was about guests taking up all the parking on the street and that she could not have so many people taking up all the parking, the rest of the letters were in the same vein. Penelope was noticed that all the letters were signed by Yolanda Wittenberg. I think I found her arch-nemisis, she thought to herself. As she looked through the desk, most of the letters were from Yolanda, with varying levels of vitriol. Penelope made a mental note to come back and take another look, before she left the study.

The last remaining room was the master bedroom. Compared to the other rooms this one was quite bland the queen bed was against a red wall but that was otherwise it was a normal room. Like the entry way there was table with a wide silver dish. Sitting in it were some pieces of jewelry, Penelope left her fingers drift over them and her fingers stopped on a wide silver ring with a square red stone. She picked it up and looked at it closer, the red stone was a flat singular red with beveled edges. Curiously she picked it up and slid it on a finger. It fit. She was about to pull it off again when there was a brong noise sounded through out the house.