Gemotions

The air in the attic was thick with the scent of decay and something else, something metallic and unsettling. The flashlight beam illuminated a collection of mismatched suitcases, lined up neatly against the far wall.

She cautiously approached the nearest one, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for the handle. The lock was rusted, but with a little effort, she managed to pry it open.

Inside, she found clothes, yellowed with age, and a small, wooden box. She didn’t know why, but she couldn't bring herself to open it. She quickly snapped the suitcase shut again, a strange sensation of being watched washing over her.