Gemotions

The old farmhouse creaked and groaned around him, a chorus of unsettling sounds. Thomas explored the damp, musty cellar, the air thick with the smell of mold and forgotten things. He found a small, ceramic jar buried in a corner. He didn’t remember putting it there. A wave of exhaustion washed over him; he was carrying a weight he couldn’t name. He carefully brushed the dirt from the jar, the texture of the clay rough against his fingers. Inside, tightly rolled, was a single, brittle sheet of paper. He almost didn't want to look.