Gemotions

"Unsolved murder," the words swam before Sophia's eyes. She sat in the attic, the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight, illuminating the report. The house, with its creaky floorboards and quirky charm, had been a welcome change. Now, it felt tainted, like something unclean.

She felt the air grow cold, even though the sun was shining outside. She could hear the faint sound of the wind, rustling the leaves. Her skin prickled. She imagined someone watching her, from the shadows.

She found herself checking the attic window, making sure it was secure. The floorboards creaked. She wished she had never come here. She clutched the report, her knuckles white, feeling trapped in the confines of the house and the darkness of its past.