Gemotions

The discovery was almost comical in its banality. Buried in the backyard, under the old oak tree, was a small chest. Inside, a collection of stolen jewelry, meticulously cataloged, along with a note detailing the crimes of the previous owner. The note was chillingly matter-of-fact.

He ripped the chest from the ground, tossing it aside with a grunt. He kicked the dirt, sending clods flying. He wanted to destroy everything, to obliterate the past, to erase the stain that now marked his home. The house was tainted. He wanted to run.