Gemotions

The house felt like a warm embrace. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Michael, whistling a jaunty tune, was finally settling into the new place after months of renovations. He’d painted the walls, refinished the floors, and hung his favorite artwork. It was starting to feel like home.

A loud thumping from above disrupted his pleasant reverie. He paused, a frown creasing his brow. He’d heard strange noises from the attic before, but they usually were from the wind. This time, however, the sound felt different.

He picked up a sturdy wooden baseball bat that leaned against the door to the garage. He headed towards the attic door. His heartbeat slowed as he carefully walked up the stairs. The attic was dark and musty.

There, in the corner, was a collection of old photographs in a wooden box.