Gemotions

The realtor had been so insistent about the charm. “Original features!” she’d chirped, her smile stretching thin as she pointed. Now, Sarah hated the charm. Every creak of the floorboards in the old Victorian echoed in the silence, each one a whispered threat. She kept checking the locks, three times before bed, each time a wave of unease crashing over her.

She found the hidden room behind the bookcase in the study. A tiny, windowless space. She touched the cold, rough stone of the wall, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. A prickling sensation crawled across her skin.

It was empty, save for dust motes dancing in the single beam of her flashlight. The air was thick, heavy, clinging to her like a shroud. She wanted to leave, but she couldn't. She had to know. Who had built this? Why?

The door clicked shut as she turned to leave, and her heart leaped into her throat.