Gemotions

He’d put this off long enough. Now, with a growing sense of dread, Michael pushed open the attic door. The air hung still and silent, a stark contrast to the buzzing in his ears. The previous owner was a hoarder, and he half expected to find the attic filled to the brim.

He didn't find that. He saw a single rocking chair, slowly moving back and forth. Its movement was almost rhythmic, and he tried to rationalize it. The wind, he thought, but there was no wind.

He took a step backward, his heart quickening. The chair continued its slow dance, as if inviting him. He took another step back, suddenly feeling trapped. He was certain that he was being watched. He bolted from the room.