Gemotions

The attic stairs groaned under her weight. Emily swallowed hard, her pulse drumming a frantic rhythm in her ears. She hadn't wanted to come up here, but the realtor had mentioned the possibility of stored items. She wished she had never listened.

A moth fluttered past her face, and she flinched. The air hung thick with the scent of decay. Then she saw it - a collection of porcelain dolls, their painted smiles unsettling in the dim light. Their eyes seemed to follow her every move.

She felt a sudden urge to flee, to get away from these silent observers. Her hands were clammy. She backed away slowly, her eyes fixed on the dolls, each step a struggle against an invisible force.