Gemotions

The moving truck had barely pulled away, leaving a swirl of dust in the driveway, when Amelia unlocked the front door. The house felt immense, echoing with the silence of unpacked boxes and the ghosts of former residents. A wave of unease washed over her, a chill that had nothing to do with the late afternoon air. She clutched her keys, knuckles white.

She spent the next hour wandering aimlessly, touching unfamiliar walls. Upstairs, the master bedroom felt cavernous, too big for just her. She pushed open the closet door, the scent of cedar and something else, something old and forgotten, tickling her nose.

Behind the hanging clothes, she noticed a seam in the back panel, slightly out of alignment. Hesitantly, she pressed on it, the wood giving way with a soft click. The panel swung inward, revealing a narrow, dust-filled passage. Her breath hitched.