Gemotions

“Oh, brilliant,” I muttered, kicking at the loose floorboard in the attic. My palms were clammy, and a cold sweat had broken out across my forehead. The board shifted, revealing a narrow opening. I shone my phone’s flashlight into the darkness. A tiny, almost claustrophobic room stared back at me.

The air inside felt thick and heavy, like a suffocating blanket. In the center, there was an old trunk. It was the kind you see in movies with all the classic hidden treasures. My heart began to race, not with excitement, but with a different kind of trepidation.

I found a small key taped to the inside of the door and, with trembling fingers, unlocked the trunk. The first thing I saw was a collection of very specific photographs. I didn't want to stay in the room any longer. I wanted to be anywhere else.