Gemotions

The attic stairs groaned with each step. Ethan kept his grip tight on the flashlight, its beam dancing erratically across the cluttered space. He tried to whistle, a tuneless melody that died in his throat. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the silence. He hated the dust, the way it clung to everything, making him feel like he was wading through a sea of cotton.

He caught his reflection in a tarnished mirror and jumped, his breath catching in his chest. His face, illuminated by the harsh light, looked pale and unfamiliar. "Just looking," he muttered to the empty room, the words sounding thin and inadequate.

A loose floorboard creaked behind him. He spun around, the flashlight beam trembling. Nothing. Just shadows and forgotten things. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain control. Then, a cold draft kissed his cheek, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention.