Gemotions

"I don't understand," Emily whispered, her voice barely audible. The time capsule, unearthed during a routine landscape project, featured a handwritten journal. Each entry chronicled events in her life, but the handwriting was hers, yet the words felt like a riddle.

She ran a hand through her hair, a shiver running down her spine. The entries grew increasingly cryptic, culminating in a series of disturbing sketches she didn't recall creating. She backed away from the open container. The drawings depicted her house. She couldn’t shake the feeling of something closing in, the air seeming heavy.