At some time or another, we’ve probably all had something in our homes that, quite frankly, gives us the creeps.
Maybe it’s the heirloom Victorian doll that your mother insisted you keep, or perhaps it’s an empty-eyed tribal mask that seems to gaze at you every time you pass by. Or was it an old clock with a ominous-sounding chime?
In my house, it was an Edward Curtis photograph of a Native American chief. I bought this sepia-toned picture for my photographer husband, who’d fallen in love with Curtis’ series on the subject during one of our romantic getaways. But the chief’s craggy visage soon left me cold, and ended up scaring the bejesus out of my youngest daughter. In the coming weeks, there were frequent “man with the feather” nightmares.
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