Gemotions

The estate agent had painted a rosy picture. Spacious rooms, original features, a charming garden. He’d left out the part about the drafty windows, the sloping floors, and the pervasive feeling of unease. Charles ran a hand across his forehead, wiping away a fresh layer of sweat.

He’d spent the last few weeks battling mold, repairing crumbling plaster, and trying to decipher the ancient plumbing. He'd even had to deal with the neighbor's incessant dog. It was all a bit much.

He was in the library, trying to organize the inherited books. One of the shelves seemed out of alignment. He tugged at it, a desperate, almost violent pull. The entire bookshelf swung inwards, revealing a small, dark room, filled with cobwebs.