Gemotions

He jumped at the ringing of the telephone, his hand flying to his chest. David had been meticulously scrubbing the kitchen floor for the third time that day, a ritual he didn’t quite understand. He eyed the phone, a sleek, black predator on the counter. Each ring felt like a personal accusation.

He finally snatched it up, forcing a casual tone he didn’t feel. “Hello?”

A crackling voice on the other end gave a date and location: the old Oakwood Cemetery. There was a time capsule buried beneath the oldest oak tree, they said. David, his gut clenching, hung up and looked at his reflection in the window. He saw someone he didn’t recognize, someone whose eyes darted around like caged birds. He needed to go to that cemetery, he felt compelled, yet he was also certain that it was a trap.