Gemotions

He’d always felt a prickle of unease about the old house, a sense of eyes watching him from the shadows. Now, staring at the freshly exposed doorway behind the bookshelf in the library, that feeling intensified into a cold dread. James took a step back, knocking over a stack of books. They crashed to the floor, the sound echoing in the sudden stillness.

His breath hitched. He couldn’t bring himself to move. The air that seeped from the opening felt thick, suffocating. He tried to swallow, but his throat had gone dry.

He didn't want to go in. Every instinct screamed at him to run. But the curiosity, the morbid fascination, gnawed at him. He forced himself forward, slowly, each step a monumental effort. He peered into the darkness, the beam of his flashlight bouncing off something… something white, on the floor.