Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the gloom. Amelia wrinkled her nose, but she wouldn’t back down. The realtor had *insisted* this house had no hidden rooms. Now, she was positive she'd found one. The tap, tap, tap of her knuckles echoed on the aged paneling in the upstairs hallway. A hollow sound. Just like she knew it would be.

She pulled the antique rug back, feeling a prickle of satisfaction as she exposed a small rectangular section of the floor. She knelt, running her hand along the edge of the wood. The floorboards were original, dark and thick. She tugged at one, then another. They didn’t budge. She pressed her lips into a thin line.

Her jaw clenched as she grabbed her largest screwdriver from her toolbox. For the next hour, she worked tirelessly, sweating and grunting, the only sounds in the house. Finally, with a loud crack, the boards gave way.