Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, a sound that sliced through the silence of the house. Sarah jumped, her hand flying to her chest. She hadn't expected to find anything. Just dust and cobwebs, probably. She slowly ascended the pull-down stairs, each step a protest. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of forgotten things.

Sunlight, a pale yellow, struggled to penetrate the grime-coated window. A trunk sat in the center of the attic. Her fingers brushed against the cold metal latch, and she recoiled. It seemed to pulse with a silent energy. *Don't be ridiculous,* she scolded herself.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspapers, was a child's porcelain doll. Its vacant eyes seemed to follow her as she reached for it. A shiver ran down her spine, and she snatched her hand back. The attic felt too small, too close. She slammed the trunk shut, the sound echoing in the confined space.