Gemotions

The clicking of the knitting needles was the only sound in the room, other than his rapid heartbeat. Amelia, his daughter, had inherited his love of intricate patterns, but she had taken it to a level he couldn’t grasp. Now, the yarn wasn’t just yarn, it was a weapon. The patterns were always complex, dark, and always with an edge that was impossible to ignore. He watched her fingers fly, the needles a blur, and a chill crawled up his spine. He found himself constantly checking the locks on the doors and windows. He felt the need to inspect every item in the house. Every time he looked at his daughter, he felt like he should know something more.