A crystal-clear blue sky loomed over head as Garrick knocked on the door to the quaint semi-detached house at the end of Broodmore’s Street. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples as the sun bore down on him from overhead, the heat unusual for the middle of spring. The grass had turned to hay on the nearby verges, their yellow hues almost unheard of for the season.
“Hello, ma’am? We’re here from your management company.” Garrick spoke into the closed door, looking back at Sara and Nip, shrugging his shoulders.
“I think we just break in. Nobody has seen her in two months,” requested Sara.
“I can blow the lock?” asked Nip.
“Go for it.” Garrick stepped aside as the gnome approached the door.
She pulled the cork from a vial attached to a bandolier on her hip. Reaching into her shoulder slung bag, she pulled a glass applicator out carefully, screwing it onto the vial upside down. Twisting it back upright, she placed the applicator’s nozzle to the keyhole and squeezed the trigger. The substance foamed immediately, sizzling on contact with the metal. She waited a moment, listening to the chemicals work. Satisfied with its progress, she turned the brass door handle. It was slack in her hand, the mechanism completely corroded.
“Done.” Nip unscrewed the vial and placed both it and the applicator into her bag.
Garrick took the front, shoulder checking the door open.
“Ma’am, are you ok? Mrs. Redmond?” Garrick called out into the hallway.
Post had piled up around the front door, as well as a thick layer of dust over the banister and shelf that housed an old wood pot with the front door key.
It took a moment for the smell to hit his nostrils. It was putrid, and Garrick instinctively reared back, stumbling out into the open air once more.
“Holy hell!” He wafted in front of his nose; the stench was unwavering.
Sara poked her head in with her fingers pinched over her nostrils. She shushed Garrick and listened intently. The faint buzzing of flies could be heard deeper into the home, as well as faint groans.
“Undead,” Sara’s tone was firm.
“Undead?” asked Garrick, not wanting her to be right.
“Undead,” she confirmed.
“I swear to the devil himself that bastard necromancer will be one head shorter when I see him. This is the third tenant this month!”
Today's prompt: high temperature
This week's worldbuilding prompt: spring
If you'd like to participate too, the contest/prompts can be found here:
@mariannewest/day-1602-5-minute-freewrite-friday-prompt-high-temperature
