There's ghost in my house

...An eye. A large eye. A human eye.
" A human eye," I thought to myself. " Surely it will belong to somebody friendly. Some-one that can helps us?"
As I was staring at the eye, somehow being caught in it's sight, feeling unable to move my eyes from it, captive in the glance of the optical grasp it had on me, Petra made a yelping sound. This noise broke the spell it had on me, but I had no wish for my dear friend to be enhanced by the same spell that nearly overcame me.
" Don't look at it," I urged.
"Don't look at what?" she enquired
"The eye, this horrible eye." I retorted.
"What eye?" Oh, That eye. Toby, you are a silly fool," she said, kindly oo me, That eye is just part of a painting. Look properly. And do you mind getting your hulking weight off my leg, it is fast getting painfully numb."
"Wh..what? Oh, yes, sorry, " I responded, rolling over on the dusty floor, and viewing the eye from a slightly different angle.
She was right, it was part of a painting. The frame was visible now. It was an old frame and once upon a time it was a lovely gilt one. Now it is faded, chipped and black with years of grime and neglect. The painting itself was not as old as the frame, but was still more than a couple of decades in age. It was the head and shoulders of a man. A kindly man, but somehow, a sad man of an indeterminable age.
But still the eye, or should I say eyes? still seem to have a hold on me. As if they would follow me around where-ever I moved.
The inside of the house, our sanctuary from whatever or who-ever was chasing us was becoming clearer now as the full moon escaped from behind the clouds, and cast a little light through one of the small, cob-webbed covered windows on the walls.
I could see that the room was not as small as it should have been, considering the size of the exterior of the building, and there were strange things hanging on the wall. Metal, wooden, bone mad implements.
" Bone!"
" "What did you say?" asked Petra.
" Bones," I replied, on the walls.
Hesitatingly we both moved closer to each other and perused as much as we could of the enclosed space.
Sure enough there were bones and strange marks or writing on the wall, and underneath us, as if we were in a circle of them, the floor was littered with, what I can only describe as runes and symbols.
Cautiously we cast or vision upwards, whether by base instinct or as if beckoned , and drew even closer to each other as through a hole in the ceiling, which we never realised was the there, a ghostly apparition was hovering...