Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a malignant-looking thing in the dying light. It wasn’t addressed to her, a fact that tightened her chest. The name scrawled across the front was Amelia Blackwood, the previous tenant. She’d been gone for months, vanished without a forwarding address. A tremor ran down her spine.

She nudged the box with her foot, a brief, sharp tap. It didn't move. She retreated inside, locking the deadbolt, the flimsy chain, and then jamming a chair against the door. The rustling of the wind outside sounded like whispers.

Her hands shook as she dialed the landlord's number. His voicemail picked up. She left a hurried message, her voice wavering, about the package, about the unsettling feeling it gave her. Then she called her friend, Sarah, desperately seeking a distraction.