ominous signs

I fell in love with a book recently. It was the kind of read that I
felt sad half way through, knowing that my relationship with this book
would soon be over. It was the kind of book where you mourned reading
its last word, as if a close friend had just moved and there won't be
any more quality time spent in their presence.
Having said that, I highly recommend "Devil in the White City." It's
the true story of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair juxtaposed with the
story of the serial killer who murdered upwards of 200 people, many of
them female fairgoers. The serial killer part, of course creeped me
out. It started musings of things that could have happened in my
dark, ominous, stale basement; hence the photograph of one corner of
my basement taken at 5:45am this morning. (I couldn't sleep and got
tired of eyeballing the ceiling.)
(Note: NONE of the sharp objects, *including the shovel* were
planted...this is exactly how I found my basement when I moved in.)