Gemotions

She found the time capsule while cleaning out her late grandmother's attic. It was tucked away in a dusty corner, a small, wooden crate. Curiosity warred with an immediate, deep-seated unease that prickled her skin. She had no recollection of ever seeing it before. The wood was splintered, and a faded inscription, almost illegible, seemed to beckon her closer.

She lifted the lid and was instantly overwhelmed. A faint, cloying scent of potpourri and something else, something metallic and sharp, assaulted her senses. Inside, nestled amongst dried flowers and yellowed letters, was a small, porcelain doll. Its painted face, with unnervingly bright blue eyes, stared directly at her.

She recoiled, dropping the lid with a resounding thud. A chill ran through her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The letters. She picked one up, addressed in a familiar but unfamiliar handwriting. It was her name, but signed with a flourish that didn’t belong to her. A terrible certainty began to dawn: this wasn’t hers.