Gemotions

The heat was oppressive, even up here, in the attic. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples. The air was thick with the scent of dust and something else, something he couldn't quite place, but that sent a prickling sensation up his spine. He'd been hoping to find some old tools, but so far, all he'd encountered was a sense of dread.

He saw a pile of forgotten belongings, old boxes and wrapped objects. He decided to investigate the furthest object. As he reached out, a cold gust of air moved through the space, and he shivered, even though it was hot. He pulled back the tarp, and revealed a painting, face-down, its frame chipped and broken. He hesitated for a moment, and then turned it over, and he immediately regretted it. The eyes, painted with unsettling realism, seemed to follow his every move. He scrambled back, bumping into a stack of boxes, and stumbled backward down the stairs.