Gemotions

The antique dealer, Arthur Finch, practically bounced on the balls of his feet as he swung the hefty oak door open. Sunlight spilled into the shadowy hallway of his new Victorian. “Magnificent!” he declared, his voice booming. He hadn't stopped grinning since the moving van pulled away. Finally, a house worthy of his collection!

He spent the rest of the morning exploring. The floorboards groaned beneath his weight, but he didn't care. He ran his hands along the ornate plasterwork, tracing the delicate carvings. This house was a treasure trove! He pulled on a dusty brass handle, expecting a linen closet, but the paneling moved inwards with a soft click.

Behind it, a narrow staircase spiraled downwards, bathed in an eerie green light from a single, dusty window. His heart hammered in his chest. “Oh, this is going to be good,” he whispered, a giddy thrill coursing through him.