Gemotions

The inspector’s face had been a mask of polite concern. “You do know, Mrs. Evans, about the…previous incident?” The polite concern, the veiled warnings, they'd just fueled her. Now, standing on the porch of the Victorian, she felt a tightening in her chest, a pulse of…energy.

She’d spent weeks researching, reading every article, every lurid detail. The blood, they said, had seeped into the very walls. She took a key and let herself inside.

She walked through the dusty rooms, the air heavy with the scent of decay and something else…something metallic. She put her hands on her hips, her gaze sweeping over the peeling wallpaper. So be it. She would not be scared. She was going to restore the house to its former glory. She would fill it with light and laughter. She would bring it back from the grave.