Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the chaotic beat of my pulse. The city archivist, a kindly woman with spectacles perched on her nose, had just handed me the files. Yellowed pages detailed the grisly event that occurred within these very walls. My hands trembled as I took the files, the paper seeming to crackle with an unspoken menace.

My breath hitched. My throat felt thick, as if a vise were clamped around it. Images flooded my mind. The old hardwood floors creaked beneath my feet, seemingly whispering secrets. I found myself pacing, the silence of the house amplifying every creak and groan. The shadows in the hallway danced, mocking me.

I decided, almost against my will, to check the basement. The air grew instantly cold as I descended, the smell of damp earth and something else… something metallic… filling my nostrils. The flashlight beam quivered in my hand, illuminating cobwebs and dust motes. A shiver ran through me.