Gemotions

The realtor had said the house was move-in ready. He hadn't mentioned the attic. Now, standing beneath the dangling lightbulb, Daniel felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. He wasn't sure why he was delaying opening the trunk.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit. The air was stifling, thick with dust and the scent of decay. A long, thin scratch on the trunk's surface caught his eye. He bent closer, then recoiled. It looked too deliberate.

Inside, beneath layers of moth-eaten fabric, lay a collection of antique medical instruments. Needles, scalpels, and something that looked suspiciously like a bone saw. He stumbled backward, his breath catching in his throat. He had to get out.