Gemotions

The house had an unsettling silence, broken only by the creaks of the floorboards. She located the hidden room behind a tapestry in the master bedroom. It was a study, filled with books and a heavy, mahogany desk.

She sat at the desk, running her fingers over the cool, smooth surface. A half-written manuscript lay open, its pages filled with elegant script. It seemed like the author had left in the middle of a thought. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of something.

She read the unfinished sentence aloud, then found herself compelled to finish it. She wrote a sentence on the page, attempting to capture the author’s voice. She continued writing, not with her own thoughts, but with those of the writer who had abandoned their words.