Gemotions

The old house felt different tonight, more menacing. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows and making the floorboards creak. He checked every lock, a ritual he didn’t understand, but he couldn't stop. Now he stood before the attic door.

He tried the knob; it turned easily. He shined his flashlight into the darkness, the beam cutting through the dust motes. A pile of old children’s toys, scattered across the floor. He swallowed hard, feeling his throat constrict.

A tattered teddy bear lay on its side, one button eye missing. He focused on the bear's empty socket. He was sure he could see it move. He whirled around, heart pounding. The flashlight beam danced, casting grotesque shadows. He ran from the attic.