Gemotions

It was a small parcel, almost insignificant, but the name on the front – "Ms. Vivian Hayes" – felt like a hammer blow. The woman who had lived here, the woman who had… what had she done? What secrets had she carried? It was a question that plagued her, that kept her awake at night, tossing and turning in a bed that felt both too big and too small.

He’d almost managed to forget. The package, however, was a constant reminder.

The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, filling the corners of the room with unsettling shapes. The air grew thick, heavy with an unspoken dread. Her skin crawled.

She picked up the phone, and called the authorities.