It was an eerie sound, the inmates chanting all around from in their cells. The rhythm and swell of their choral was impossible to follow; as one voice faded another was waxing, and ever changing, ever growing ever shrinking, the voices filled the asylum.
He hurried down the hallway, just keeping under a run. He wanted to run, his pulse was racing, he wanted to run away, but he kept walking, going deeper. The chants, mournful and despairing, were like damned ghosts wailing from each room he passed.
Tale Told 