Gemotions

The realtor had said the house was a "fixer-upper," but Amelia hadn't anticipated THIS. Behind the peeling wallpaper in the master bedroom, she'd found a seamless door, almost invisible. Now, standing in a small, square room she couldn't account for, a knot tightened in her stomach. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the gloom. Her heart thrummed an erratic rhythm against her ribs.

She reached out a hesitant hand, brushing a finger across a tarnished silver locket that lay on a small, mahogany table. It was cold to the touch. The air in the room was stale, thick with the scent of something old and forgotten.

"Hello?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Only the echo of her own voice answered her. A sense of unease crept up her spine, prickling her skin.