Gemotions

The attic door stood ajar, as if beckoning her. She hadn't left it that way, had she? Her pulse quickened, a rapid staccato against her ribs. She was being silly, she told herself. It was just an old house.

She pushed the door open further, her hand trembling. The air inside felt stagnant, heavy with the scent of forgotten things. The flashlight beam cut through the gloom, revealing a jumble of objects.

She knew she shouldn't go in, but she couldn't resist the allure. Each shadow seemed to whisper a silent story, a tale that both fascinated and repelled her.