Gemotions

The movers were gone. Finally. Amelia leaned against the kitchen counter, the granite cool against her cheek. This house felt wrong, somehow. The air was heavy, stagnant, as if holding its breath. The silence was deafening.

The realtor had raved about the renovated pantry. Amelia, though, had noticed something else. A slight unevenness in the back wall. An almost imperceptible shadow. She’d dismissed it initially, but the nagging feeling wouldn't leave.

She pushed against the pantry wall, just behind the canned peaches. A section of the wall swung inward, revealing a dark, claustrophobic space. Her breath hitched. Inside, a collection of old photographs lay scattered on a small table, each face a stranger staring back at her.