Gemotions

It was addressed simply, "To Occupant." The lack of a specific name set her teeth on edge. The previous owner, a Mr. Finch, had been a collector, rumored to possess strange and valuable artifacts. The thought that this box might contain one of them made her skin prickle.

She spent the day barricaded in her bedroom, the door closed and bolted. Sunlight strained through the blinds, casting long, distorted shadows. She heard sounds, she thought. Faint whispers, a scraping at the window.

She peeked through a crack in the curtains, her pulse a rapid drumbeat against her ribs. The box still sat there, undisturbed, an unwanted gift from a past she didn't want to know. She found herself whispering a prayer, a desperate plea for peace.