Traversing through sewer like tunnels,
Never quite large enough to stand in,
The air reeking of fetid bile.

Sounds bounce all around,
Tricking the mind endlessly,
Jets of steam from various pipes obscuring various dark tunnels.

I am not alone...
And whatever it is is hungry.

The sensation crawling down my spine,
Is that of dozens of spiders,
With needles instead of feet.

As I stop to take a breath I am looking down,
But the sound of a rock being disturbed on front of me makes me halt.

Screeching cries reach me from all sides as they bounce all around,
It is then that I look up and freeze,
For there are bright orange eyes in the dark just ahead.

It doesn't move,
And neither do I,
But it's silhouette remains shrouded by the dark.
A heavy air is settling now,
The silence like a blanket over all.

But from the silence comes a paralyzing sound.

A throaty and demonic like chuckle,
Crackly like the crunch of moist grave soil being struck by a shovel.

Clearly coming from behind me.