Gemotions

The realtor had mentioned a 'storage closet' beneath the staircase, but Amelia wasn't buying it. There was a subtle draft emanating from the wall, a whisper of air that sent a shiver down her spine. The old house whispered secrets, she decided. She ran her hand along the wainscoting, feeling for a hidden latch. Her fingers, usually clumsy, seemed to have taken on a life of their own, dancing across the wood.

A click. A shallow gasp escaped her lips.

A section of the paneling swung inward, revealing a dark, musty space. Her pulse quickened. She pulled out her phone, the flashlight beam cutting through the inky blackness.