Gemotions

The antique dealer had been a bit too eager, Ava thought, as he’d clutched her arm, pointing towards the original hardwood flooring. “Magnificent, isn’t it? Very few homes have this level of craftsmanship anymore!” He’d then lowered his voice. “You know, I’ve heard things about this place. Intriguing things.” Ava had simply laughed, charmed by his theatrics, and bought the house. Now, though, scrubbing at a stain on the floor that wouldn’t budge, the dealer’s words echoed. Why did the stain appear *only* in this particular spot, beneath the floorboards of the guest room?

She sighed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. The removal of the stain was proving to be a challenge. The stain wasn't recent, but old and embedded in the wood. It was an unsettling shade, a deep, rusty color. She knelt closer, the air suddenly feeling heavy, and ran her fingers along the grain. A chill ran down her spine. The house, usually so welcoming, felt strangely oppressive.

She stood abruptly, feeling a flicker of something she couldn't quite name. She grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of the stain. The picture seemed to stare back at her with a strange menace. She wondered if she should call the police.