Carefully I step forth, into the narrow alley. My small oaken torch barely penetrates the sheer wall of darkness that lies before me. Mere inches from my slowly descending foot lies a filthy rat, poised to strike. It’s fur matted with the pale ash that masks the walls. It’s one eye flicks up as it bares its gnarled yellow teeth and hisses at my intrusion. I stare back, holding as still as I can manage while the ash floods my body. The overpowering scent of age and decay begins stealing my focus, stealing my mind. I feel the walls crush in all around me, every bone in my body aching to run, aching to flee this claustrophobic nightmare. The once roaring flame of my torch shrinks, then fades all together. In it’s place remains only the icy chill of death. My arms leap to the walls desperately hoping to halt their menacing motion. The ash flutters to my face as my hands scratch the walls, the horrifying sound driving me to the edge of sanity but still I persist.