Gemotions

The realtor had chirped about charm, about character. Sarah had rolled her eyes. The house was a mess. Still, she’d bought it. Now, three weeks in, she was supposed to be unpacking. Her husband, Mark, had even offered to help. “No,” she’d snapped, slamming a box down in the living room. "I'll do it." She had other plans.

She was crawling through the dusty, forgotten crawl space under the staircase. She'd been certain there was something more to this house, something hidden. It was a compulsion.

She pried at a loose floorboard. Resistance. Her jaw tightened. Using a screwdriver, she dug the edge of the board into the soft wood, levering with a grunt. It popped. Underneath, a dark rectangle stared back at her. A door.