Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. Amelia clutched the flashlight tighter, her knuckles white. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t go up there, but the realtor had mentioned the prior owners, a reclusive couple. Now, seeing the open doorway, curiosity and a tremor of unease sent a chill down her spine.

Cobwebs brushed her face as she ascended the pull-down stairs. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of forgotten things. A musty perfume that clung to the back of her throat. She played the beam of light across the cluttered space, her breath catching in her chest.

A child’s rocking horse, its paint chipped and peeling, sat in the corner. Its vacant eyes seemed to follow her. Amelia swallowed hard. Who were these people? What lives had they led in this house? A wave of disorientation washed over her. She took a step back, heart hammering against her ribs. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.