Gemotions

The antique key felt cool and weighty in Amelia’s palm. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her gaze darting from the key to the wall paneling in the upstairs hallway. This house, a Victorian behemoth, held secrets, she knew it. And now, she was on the verge of uncovering one. Her pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

She slid the key into the ornate lock, the metal a perfect fit. A soft click echoed through the quiet house as she turned. With a grunt of effort, she tugged at the paneling. It yielded.

A dark, narrow doorway yawned before her. Dust motes danced in the sliver of light filtering from the hallway. Amelia grinned, her stomach doing a series of rapid somersaults. She reached out, her fingers already itching to explore what lay within.