Gemotions

"Hello?" she called out, her voice barely a whisper. She hated attics. The stale air, the shadows, the utter stillness… it unnerved her. She'd been putting off this inspection for days. Her husband, who was downstairs, had urged her to. Each step up was a battle. She hated the feeling that she was trapped.

She shone the light, and it landed on a collection of portraits, stacked against the wall. They looked old, their faces blurred with age. Something about the way they seemed to stare at her made her skin crawl. She glanced away from them.

In a far corner, she saw a small, ornate music box. She slowly made her way over to it, the floorboards groaning under her feet. She picked it up, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. The air felt colder now. She lifted the lid. The tinkling music sent a jolt of alarm through her. She slammed the lid shut.