Gemotions

The attic felt like a tomb. Sarah braced herself, her hand on the doorknob. She took a moment, trying to find her footing. The previous owners had been meticulous, according to the previous owner’s nephew.

The attic was stifling, the air thick with the smell of decay. The flashlight beam revealed a collection of antique dolls, their porcelain faces staring blankly ahead. A sudden dizziness made her grip the flashlight with both hands.

Her eyes landed on a music box. Intricate carvings decorated its wooden surface. She carefully opened the lid, a tiny tune tinkling in the silence. The melody was haunting, and she found it difficult to breathe, feeling a pressure in her chest. She snapped the lid shut.