Gemotions

The old key fit perfectly. Mark, sweating slightly in the stuffy attic, turned the lock and pushed the door inward. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight that pierced the gloom. He’d found it, the hidden room mentioned in the dusty old deed. His pulse hammered against his ribs. The previous owners had dismissed the rumors of a secret passage, chalking it up to local folklore. He chuckled to himself; those fools. He’d always believed. This house, the one that had witnessed a gruesome murder a century ago, now held a secret he, and only he, knew.