Gemotions

"I don't like it," Clara muttered, mostly to herself. The house was supposed to be a fresh start, a haven. Instead, it felt oppressive, like a cage with gilded bars. Sunlight seemed to struggle to reach the interior, leaving the rooms perpetually dim.

She’d spent the morning cleaning, a frantic attempt to cleanse the space, but the dust seemed to multiply faster than she could eliminate it. Now, she stood in the basement, examining a section of wall that felt…different. Cooler.

The wall yielded to her persistent prodding, revealing a narrow doorway. Clara’s breath caught in her throat. She felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to run, to flee. But something else, a morbid curiosity, held her in place. The darkness inside seemed to beckon. She pulled a flashlight from her pocket.