Gemotions

The realtor had said the house was move-in ready. Apparently, “ready” included a secret chamber behind the bookshelf in the master bedroom. Amelia’s jaw actually dropped. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her pulse hammer against her ribs.

It looked old. Very old. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the gloom. Cobwebs clung to everything. Amelia’s fingers, however, were itching to touch the ornate, iron-bound chest sitting in the center.

“Well, this is… something,” she muttered aloud, her voice sounding oddly faint in the sudden stillness of the room. She was practically vibrating with a feeling she couldn't name.