Gemotions

He’d always felt a tremor of unease about the house. Now, in the dead of night, the floorboards in the master bedroom creaked, a sound he'd never noticed before. He’d sworn he'd checked every inch of the place. He'd even had the inspection done and the property was sold to him with no issues.

He moved quickly, his flashlight beam dancing across the walls. He’d ripped up the floorboards, but found nothing. He stopped dead. Something about the way the molding met the fireplace seemed…off. With a trembling hand, he ran his fingers along the brickwork.

A section of the wall yielded with a surprising ease, revealing a dark aperture. A cold wind blew, carrying the scent of mold and something else – something acrid, sharp, like old blood. He stumbled back, his pulse drumming in his ears.