Gemotions

The musty air of the house hit Elara like a physical blow. She pulled the collar of her sweater tighter, a futile attempt to ward off the sensation of something crawling on her skin. She'd agreed to this, she’d promised to help her brother clean out the place, but the moment she crossed the threshold, a wave of revulsion washed over her.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” she said, her voice clipped. The words felt thick in her mouth. She immediately opened the nearest window, desperate for a breath of something cleaner, something less... ancient.

Dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight slicing through the gloom. They swirled and twirled in a disturbing, celebratory ballet. The wallpaper, faded and peeling, smelled of old age and decay, and her stomach lurched.