Gemotions

The dreams were the worst. Vivid, gruesome, looping nightmares that played out in the exact rooms of her house. She woke up screaming, her body slick with sweat. The sheets, once a comfort, now felt like a prison. The old woman in her dreams was always screaming.

She spent her days meticulously cleaning, scrubbing away at phantom stains, polishing the already gleaming surfaces. She would look at the floorboards, and she saw blood, no matter how much she scrubbed. She felt a constant tension in her shoulders, a tightness that refused to loosen. Even the scent of the furniture seemed to be tainted.

She started leaving lights on, even during the day. She wanted the place to feel bright. Even then, shadows danced in the corners of her vision.