Gemotions

He didn't want to go up there. His gut was churning as he pushed open the attic door. The air hung thick and stale, laced with a scent he couldn't identify. He didn't want to be here. The house he'd just bought had a history he was unaware of.

His flashlight beam swept across the cluttered space. He found a collection of old photographs scattered on the floor. He bent down, picking one up. It was a faded image of a family, smiling. But their eyes, he realized with a jolt, seemed to follow him. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

He dropped the picture and turned to leave. He caught sight of his own reflection in a dusty mirror. Behind him, a figure stood, shrouded in shadows. He gasped and ran.