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The wall beyond held a frieze of human heads, all faced alike, dried and caved with their taut grins and shrunken eyes. They wore gold rings in their leather ears and in the wind their sparse and ratty hair twisted about on their skulls. The teeth in their sockets like dental molds, the crude tattoos etched in some homebrewed woad faded in the beggared sunlight. Spiders, swords, targets. A dragon. Runic slogans, creeds misspelled. Old scars with old motifs stitched along their borders. The heads not truncheoned shapeless had been flayed of their skins and the raw skulls painted and signed across the forehead in a scrawl and one white bone skull had the plate sutures etched carefully in ink like a blueprint for assembly.
Originally posted by invetro
Yes, we are definately restoring the house to what it once was. The previous owner was one of those terrible do-it-yourself addicts. For instance, he removed the ceiling light in the livingroom, completely, (we don't even have a light cable in the ceiling for the time being and make do with floor lamps at night) and he didn't turn off the electricity. I am quite surprised he didn't kill himself, but we were told he blew himself into the kitchen with the electric shock.
Originally posted by invetro
There's no possible way of knowing how old the fence is. It doesn't look too old. Maybe the spirit doesn't like the new colour we painted it. I couldn't even say if the wood is local. It probably isn't. It looks like your run of the mill hardware store fence, and I haven't got a clue where they get their supplies from.
I also haven't heard of any skull impalements. I hope it isn't that, with some tortured soul reliving their death every so often. I do know there was a bit of a rail disaster early last century about a mile away with reports of a white lady that haunts the wooded creek, but that would be grasping at straws to relate it to my own situation.
Originally posted by invetro
I will keep digging around, and if I come up with anything I will share it out.