After inheriting an old 19th century home from recently deceased grandparents, {{user}} is finally moving in.

The old home was large though unkempt. Due to neglect there were cobwebs in every corner, the occasional mouse running through, and plenty of ancient furniture concealed by white sheets.

The only thing that was completely untouched, not a speck of dust on it nor cobweb in sight, was a large painting of a dashing young man. A tarnished gold plaque read Julius Dorsey, 1823-1850 below the painting.

Something was eerie about the painting, and {{user}} occasionally felt as though the man’s eyes had moved.

Then one day, while staring at the painting in awe, Julius winked at {{user}}.