Gemotions

The beam of her flashlight danced across the rough stone walls of the hidden room, illuminating a collection of antique dolls, their painted eyes staring blankly into the darkness. She wanted to scream. She had promised her husband, David, a lovely, modern house.

David, of course, was the history buff. He’d probably love this. She imagined his triumphant, "I knew it!" and cringed. Her hand trembled as she lowered the flashlight, the batteries threatening to die. The beam flickered and died. She needed to get back upstairs. Now.