Gemotions

The realtor had said the house was move-in ready. Lies. The chipped paint in the master bathroom had been the first clue, followed by the sticky kitchen cabinets. Now, rummaging around in the dusty, neglected basement, she wasn't surprised to find a loose panel in the wall. The previous owners, she was sure, had tried to hide something. She wrenched the panel free, ignoring the scream of protest from her aching shoulder. Curiosity, and a raw sense of *something* within, propelled her forward.

A narrow, unlit passage beckoned. She grabbed a discarded flashlight from a nearby toolbox and clicked it on. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing a small, windowless room. A single, wooden chair sat in the center. The air was thick, stale, heavy with the scent of forgotten things. *This* was what they hadn't wanted her to find.

She strode inside, feeling a strange mix of excitement and unease. She wanted to know what secrets this house held, and she would uncover them. The chair looked sturdy. She went and sat in it. The silence was deafening, the darkness all-consuming. She crossed her arms, waiting.