Gemotions

“Did you hear about the house on Elm Street?” Janice’s friend, Carol, was practically vibrating with gossip. Janice just sighed, stirring her tea slowly. The tea felt lukewarm, like everything else. She wasn't in the mood. She'd been feeling this way for weeks, ever since she signed the papers.

Carol continued, breathlessly explaining how, decades ago, a local businessman had been found dead within those walls. The details, morbid and graphic, spilled from Carol's lips. Janice felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She’d always loved the house; now a cloud of unease settled over her.

She picked at a loose thread on her sweater. She should be excited, happy. The house was her dream come true. But now, all she could see was that old headline: "Murder in the Manor." She felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to scrub every surface, to erase the very air within the walls.

Later, alone, she walked through the rooms. The shadows seemed deeper. The floorboards, previously charming, now creaked with a sinister rhythm. She wished, with a sudden, fierce pang, that she had never known.