Gemotions

The attic was stifling, the air thick with the scent of mothballs and forgotten things. She picked up the photo, her fingers brushing against the brittle paper. Her mother, the epitome of grace and poise, was in the picture. Her face was bruised and cut, and she looked utterly defeated.

Her hands began to shake. Her vision blurred, and the world seemed to spin. She struggled to remain upright. The comfortable familiarity of her home suddenly felt menacing, the shadows in the corners morphing into unknown horrors.