Gemotions

The old Victorian house had been a steal. But now, standing before the newly-discovered door in the basement, Clara regretted her impulse buy. The door, cleverly concealed behind a false wall, was made of heavy, dark wood, with a single, rusty iron handle. A cold dread seeped into her bones.

She backed away, then immediately forced herself to turn around. She had to see what was behind it. She reached out, her hand hovering just above the handle. A wave of nausea washed over her. She knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the core, that opening that door was a terrible idea.

Her muscles ached with tension. She closed her eyes, took a shaky breath, and, with a sudden burst of resolve, yanked open the door.