(Image copyright: Mary Shipman)
The house seemed normal enough before we moved in here. At first, it seemed to be a stroke of luck, getting such a grand bungalow at a price much lower than the market price. The sounds of hammering nails started the night we moved in.
Knock, knock, knock. The sounds were muffled through the walls.
Though we ignored the sounds at first, strange things began happening around our new home. And the sound of nails, more than ever.
Till the day we came to know about the woman whose voices inside her head drove her to hammer her fingers into the wall, one by one.
This drabble is written for Friday Fictioneers- 20th June for the above photo prompt.