Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows on the walls of the study. David sat, the police report spread before him. The previous owner, a reclusive writer, had been found dead, a single gunshot wound. Suicide, the report stated. But David knew better.

He ran a hand over the smooth, dark wood of the desk, the same desk where… He felt a sudden, urgent need to understand. He started looking for the place where the writer may have been. He felt the cold air rush in his lungs.

He grabbed the old, leather-bound journal he’d found tucked away in a drawer. His eyes flicked across the spidery handwriting, searching for clues, for secrets. The air was charged with a current of anticipation and a feeling of darkness.