Gemotions

The antique dealer had just left, his words still echoing in Amelia's mind. "It's all in the archives, dear. Your charming Victorian? Used to be the scene of a rather infamous… episode." Amelia bounced on the balls of her feet, a giggle escaping her lips. The house, usually a source of quiet contentment, now crackled with a different kind of energy.

She ran her hand along the newly-restored banister, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings. A wave of excitement washed over her, and she felt a sudden urge to explore.

She flew to the attic, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that sliced through the grimy windows. She rummaged through forgotten trunks, her heart hammering against her ribs, and pulled out a stack of old newspapers. Each headline, each grainy photograph, was a tiny piece of the house's hidden past.