Gemotions

“Come on, come on,” George muttered, tapping his foot impatiently. The plumbing was acting up again. The dripping in the bathroom was driving him insane. He felt a constant pressure, a low-level buzz of frustration. He needed to get out, he needed something to focus on. He began to search online for local history, anything to draw him away from his home.

The information he found online was unsettling. His house was the scene of a political assassination, the details of which were gruesome. George's breath hitched as he reviewed old news reports and crime scene photos. The house now felt charged with a dark energy, the quiet rooms whispering with forgotten secrets. He felt as though he couldn't leave, as if he was trapped here.