Gemotions

The realtor had said the house was a steal, practically a blank canvas. Sarah, however, felt a strange knot tighten in her stomach as she ran her hand along the dusty, newly-plastered wall in the basement. She’d been too eager, too impulsive in the bidding war, and now, staring at the perfectly smooth expanse, she felt a sinking sensation. The contractor had missed a spot. A tiny, almost imperceptible seam ran along the left side, barely visible in the dim light. She ran her fingers over it, and the plaster gave way to a cold, metallic click.

Behind the false wall, a narrow staircase descended into darkness. Her breath hitched. She shouldn't be doing this. The seller had been so insistent on a quick sale, so reluctant to linger. Sarah found a flashlight in the tool bag and shone it down the steps.

Hesitantly, she descended. The air grew colder, and the scent of damp earth and something else, something metallic and sharp, pricked her nostrils. She saw a small room. A single, heavy trunk sat in the center.