Gemotions

The musty scent of the ancestral home was the first thing that assaulted Amelia. Her brother, Charles, had been stoic as the solicitor read the will. He hadn't flinched. Amelia, however, felt a chill crawl up her spine. The house, with its shadowed hallways and silent portraits, always made her uneasy. Now, she understood why.

She'd inherited the antique music box. Charles received the family business. She picked up the ornate object, its silver casing tarnished. Inside, a miniature ballerina twirled. As she wound the key, a melody began, eerily familiar. Then, the dancer’s face contorted into a grotesque grin. Amelia dropped the music box, the sound of shattered glass echoing through the silent mansion. A wave of nausea washed over her. She stumbled back, needing air.