Gemotions

The silence in the house was deafening, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock. Martha stared at the drawing tacked to her granddaughter's bedroom door. A child was running in a field, accompanied by a tall, slender figure. "Jaxon," his name, a word she had not uttered in decades.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She remembered the games, the secrets, the whispers in the dark. She felt a familiar weight settle on her shoulders, a crushing burden of fear and loneliness.

She began to pace, her hands clenched. Her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for something unseen. The walls seemed to be closing in. She needed to find some solace, some escape from this resurgence of dread.