Neira felt a shiver crawl down her spine as she stared up at the home she grew up in, the cold autumn air nipping at her fingers. It felt so much bigger and so much emptier with Gramma Athalynn now gone. Although the tradition of wearing black to a funeral was considered dead practice, Neira couldn't help but wear the black lacy dress that her Gramma bought her last year.
The year before she got sick.
Gramma was a strong old woman, Neira knew that. But cancer didn't care about all that. Neira had to watch as the woman who stood as her barrier became the one needing protected. She still remembered the night the hospital called…
Ever since she passed, Neira always felt a lot less safe. Her fingers clasped around the brass pendant around her neck, listening to the faint jingle it made. The pendant was special, a gift from her grandmother at a young age. The old woman was a spiritual type, believing that the necklace was to ward off evil spirits and creatures. Did Neira believe this? She wasn't sure. But it made her shaking hands calm and her nerves steel.
She sighed and stepped into the home, looking around at all the things left for her. A massive antique hutch made of wood and filled to the brim with porcelain dishes with a matching buffet and table set in the kitchen, an old bed collecting dust and an antique desk cluttered with books and stationary in the master bedroom, a torn leather couch and loveseat with a scuffed up coffee table and shelf in the living room. Her room remained the same, an old twin-size bed with a desk behind it and a dresser with the top decorated with books, jars of various items she'd collected, and some miscellaneous art from vendors at markets.
This is going to be rough... She thought sadly.
Being by herself was no issue, but with the recent loss of her grandmother things were going to get worse. Sure, she didn't have to worry about bills for a while due to the inheritance, but knew things were gonna fall apart if she didn't take the necessary steps. She grasped the pendant again. She stared at herself in the mirror behind the door of her bedroom. Dark bags under tired blue eyes were the first things she saw. God only knows how many nights she spent up, fearing the worst for her bedridden grandmother. She let out a heavy sigh and went to plop down on the bed. She grasped the pendant one last time.
"Gramma, I hope you're listening," she murmured, "this is gonna be rough, but I'm not gonna give up. I promise."
