You stop in your tracks, and it hurts to perceive anything, anything at all. Vision swims with colors, faded and saturated and overwhelming. You close your eyes and cover your ears, for a shrill tone penetrates the air around you. The noise is high-pitched like a whine, but sounds unlike anything you've ever heard before. The noise gets louder, and you begin to hear a throaty quality to it, as though it were coming from some beast or... thing. The pitch raises to the peak of its crescendo, the banshees wailing from the pits of Tartarus, and you go dizzy, nearly fainting. Around you, you feel the shaking of the entire school, as though the building itself were the source of the noise, crying, moaning for something lost.

     And then it ceases. Sweet silence becomes intoxicating, but the memory of the hellish whine dirties the joy of it. Whatever the hell happened, you aren't sure. But you ARE sure that something is terribly wrong. You open your eyes and find your suspicions correct, as a wretched sight waits for you.

     Brilliant reds and filthy browns and sickly vomit-greens color the dull darkness you saw just a moment ago. Blood splatters punctuate every several feet of the walls, oozing liquids of questionable origin fall through the ceiling, and even underneath the viscera you can tell that the school is ancient, withered and rotting: already near its death by the time it was so corrupted. The floors suffered the worst of the change: cracks separated halves and quarters of the floor that are still miraculously suspended in the air. The fissures go further than any light can penetrate, as if they would lead you to Hell itself. But who are you kidding? Hell is already here.