Necropolis

You are drawn to the dull light of the window behind you. Wiping the thick dust from its pane, you take witness to the still street below you. Nothing moves, but a lone streetlight illuminates a part of the wet pavement.

The hum of the rusty lamp rings in your ears, stabbing at your temples, but the light is so mezmerizing that you feel drawn to it, like a moth. As you stare, the hum is magnified a thousand times over as your head throbs and the sight of the light below you begins to shake uncontrollably.

You fall to your knees and start screaming at the top of your lungs, trying to drown out the noise, but this does no good.