Gemotions

He had been climbing the attic stairs when it hit him. A profound weariness, a desire to simply…stop. He steadied himself against the railing. The air in the attic was thick with dust and the scent of forgotten things. The old house seemed to hum with a secret.

He was searching for his grandfather’s old steamer trunk, when his gaze fell upon a section of the wall. It was behind a stack of dusty portraits. A faint line, almost invisible, cut across the weathered wood paneling. He felt his eyelids droop as he examined the wall.

With a groan, he pulled the portraits away. The paneling slid open, revealing a dark, musty space. He felt the pull of gravity on his heavy body.