Gemotions

The realtor, a cheerful woman named Carol, had raved about the charm of the Victorian house. "So much history!" she’d chirped. Now, staring at the faded photographs she’d unearthed in the attic, Sarah wasn't so sure about the history part. The photos depicted a woman she didn’t recognize, with a vacant expression, sitting on her front porch.

The clothes were from the 1920s, and something about the woman’s gaze made Sarah’s skin crawl. She found a scrapbook. Flipping through its pages, Sarah found a newspaper clipping. The headline was garbled and faded. It mentioned an unsolved disappearance and a missing person. The name of the missing person was familiar.

She dropped the book with a startled cry. Her hands trembled as she bent to pick it up. The woman in the photos had the same name as the woman on the missing person’s report. Sarah reread the article. The address of the missing woman was the same as hers. She ran a hand through her hair, a sense of disquiet washing over her.