Gemotions

The creak of the floorboards echoed through the empty house. Ben stood in the hallway, listening. Silence. But it wasn't the good kind of silence. It was a silence filled with unspoken things. The walls seemed to breathe.

He ran his hand along the banister, the wood worn smooth with age. He'd always loved the character of the old house. He hadn't understood. Now, the character felt heavy, a burden he had to carry.

He thought of the people who'd lived and died here, their stories forever interwoven with the fabric of the house. He imagined the scene, the chaos, the finality. He wanted to believe that he wasn't going to be haunted by them.