Gemotions

The old woman next door, gossiping over the fence, had dropped the bomb. "Oh, that house? Terrible things happened there, dear. Terrible." Her words, delivered with a smug relish, had sliced through my composure. My stomach twisted with a familiar, unwelcome feeling.

I tried to dismiss it, to tell myself it was just gossip. But the image of the house, my house, now swam before my eyes, the familiar facade replaced by a dark, foreboding aura. My hands fidgeted at my side, my nails digging into my palms.

I walked through the rooms, the cheerful décor now feeling like a mask, hiding something ugly beneath. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, that shadows were dancing just beyond the periphery of my vision. The cheerful wallpaper, suddenly sinister.