Gemotions

He’d sworn he'd seen movement in the shadows, a fleeting glimpse of something just beyond the dusty trunks. Now, Ethan crouched, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The attic's silence pressed down on him, suffocating. He’d found a box filled with children's toys, all antique and peculiar.

He picked up a porcelain doll, its painted eyes unnervingly bright. Its limbs, brittle with age, seemed poised for movement. A wave of nausea washed over him. He had to get out of the attic. He dropped the doll, the impact echoing loudly in the stillness, and fled.