"She crept slowly along the dark corridor, regretting her choice of direction. The air was thick, hot and wet with a hateful, bloody smell. Cyclical echoing sounds of choking, maniacal laughter changing to a racking sob and quickly transitioning back to laughter accompanied her. When the spotlight flared, she saw the source of her processional soundtrack and it evoked far more hatred than pity."
© Marcus Howell, Intaglio, 2014