Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, a sound that sliced through the quiet of the house. Sarah clutched the flashlight tighter, knuckles bone-white. Dust motes danced in the beam, revealing a shadowy, cluttered space. A child's rocking horse stood in the corner, its painted eyes seeming to follow her.

A chill ran down her spine, raising goosebumps. She hadn't expected this.

Her breath hitched as she saw them – stacks of old photographs, faces staring blankly from the past. She backed away slowly, the flashlight beam trembling.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice barely a whisper. The only answer was the whisper of wind through a broken windowpane. She couldn't bring herself to go further inside.