Gemotions

The aroma of freshly cut grass filled the air as Mark approached his back yard. There stood Mr. Riley, his usual affable smile now absent, a chainsaw resting on the ground next to the large elm.

His breath caught in his chest. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee. He paused, frozen in place. The chainsaw, gleaming in the sunlight, seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy.

He wanted to ask him what he was doing, to demand an explanation, but the words wouldn't come. He could only stare, his stomach churning with an unfamiliar sickness.