Gemotions

He’d known the previous owners had been… eccentric. But this. This was something else. Mark swallowed hard, the taste of metal on his tongue. The flashlight beam landed on a trunk, its brass clasps tarnished, its leather cracked. A feeling of unease settled in his stomach, heavy and cold.

He shouldn't have come up here alone.

He reached out, hesitant, to lift the lid. A musty odor, sharp and cloying, assaulted his nostrils. Inside, a collection of dolls, their painted smiles unsettling in the dim light. They seemed to watch him, a silent chorus.

He slammed the trunk shut, a jolt running through him. He fumbled with the latch, wanting to escape this space.