Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, a sound that sliced through the silence of the house. Sarah squinted into the gloom, her breath catching in her throat. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the gloom. She hadn't expected to find anything. Just the usual forgotten Christmas decorations and moth-eaten furniture. But there, tucked under a loose floorboard, was a small, tarnished silver locket.

Her pulse quickened. She shouldn’t touch it. It felt wrong. Her hand hovered over it, then snatched it away. She snapped it open. Empty. She slammed it shut, then flung it back under the floorboard with a curse. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, to shift, to conceal something she couldn't see.

Later, she found herself checking the locks on all the windows, even the ones on the second floor. Every floorboard now groaned under her weight as she slowly made her way through the entire house, twice, making sure she was safe. The silence in the house, previously comforting, now vibrated with a thousand unseen whispers.