Mist swirled around the slowly rotting grey-white bricks, forming shapes and figures that helped fuel legends of mystical beings and hauntings. During the months since the castle's newest occupant's death, the footprints of his killer had been filled in again, and the flesh stripped from his bones, which gleamed a dull red-brown, with small patches of white where the sun had stayed on the bone long enough to bleach it. Tattered shreds of clothing hung like rejected ancient flags on the skeleton, torn apart by the elements and hungry scavengers.
Empty eye sockets stared out into the room, hollow pits sunken deeply into the skull. Sometimes, when the wind would blow at the right angle and speed, the wind would whistle through the empty sockets, creating an empty sound similar to the sound of someone breathing heavily. It was this strange phenomenon which scared away all creatures who would think to seek refuge near the skeleton, the grinning occupant of the ancient castle.