Gemotions

"This is it, then," Leo murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He traced the smooth, cold surface of the antique music box. Beside him, his sister, Maya, fiddled with the ornate clasp of a small, wooden chest. The solicitor had just finished the reading of their grandfather’s will. They’d expected the house, the family home. But the details were… off.

The house was theirs, split fifty-fifty. But the music box, the chest, the scattered, bizarre collection of old maps and compasses scattered throughout the house were, apparently, only for Leo. Maya kept the savings account. She looked up, her face pale. A tremor went through her as she closed the chest, her knuckles white.

His stomach twisted. He didn't want the music box or the maps. They felt tainted, imbued with a strange, unsettling energy. He wished Maya could take everything. The air felt thick, charged with some unspoken threat. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of something lurking in the shadows. He wanted to go home and lie down.