Gemotions

The familiar scent of lavender from the potpourri on the mantelpiece did little to soothe Eleanor’s unease. Her niece, Chloe, had drawn him again, this time perched on a swing set made of twisted vines. A knot formed in Eleanor’s stomach. It was like looking into a distorted mirror, a reflection of a forgotten nightmare.

She clutched her coffee cup, knuckles white. She closed her eyes, trying to force the memory of him – of *it* – away. But the image remained, vivid and unsettling. She opened her eyes, immediately turning to find Chloe at her side.

"Auntie Eleanor, can he come play with us?" the child asked, her voice full of innocent expectation. Eleanor swallowed hard, a wave of nausea sweeping over her.