Gemotions

The estate agent had been so enthusiastic, the house "full of character!" Now, David was less convinced. He was in the attic, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. A cold spot had led him to this, this area in the eaves that seemed to not match the rest of the structure.

He had always been a practical man, a believer in logic and reason. But now, as he examined a section of the wall, he felt a prickle of unease. There was something about the way the wooden planks were joined, the slight discoloration. He told himself it was just the age of the house.

He ran his hand along the wood, searching for a seam. He found a small, almost invisible crack. He pressed his finger against it, and the wood gave way. The opening seemed to be the size of a door. He took a deep breath.

"Probably just a place to store old junk," he muttered to himself. He pushed the door open, his heart pounding.