Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, releasing a gust of dust that tickled Amelia's nose. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. The air inside was thick and stagnant, heavy with the scent of aged wood and forgotten things. She had been dreading this.

A glint of metal caught her eye. At first she thought it was a child's toy. Curiosity piqued, she reached for it. It was a tarnished silver locket, its surface intricately engraved. She opened it. Inside, nestled against faded velvet, were two tiny portraits of children. Her breath hitched.

She stumbled backward, a cold wave washing over her. The locket slipped from her numb fingers and clattered onto the floorboards. She couldn't breathe. Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a whimper. The previous owners, she knew nothing about them, but now, a creeping unease tightened her chest.