The blood on the white tiled floor told me there was something wrong, but thinking back, had I paid closer attention I would've found several other things as well: the smell of death and decay, the faint whispers that seems to be in the wind all around. And last but not least: the feeling of being watched, so profound that I could feel it crawling on my skin.

I didn't know where I was, nor did I know why. All I knew was that I was in a dark hallway, which looked strikingly like a hospital hallway, that there was blood splattered on the white tiled floor, and that I didn't know any of the others that were around me. I looked at the people around me and saw the expression of confusion and caution on each of their faces. One of them stepped a few feet back from the group, putting himself halfway into the shadows and halfway in the ghostly light of the florescent bulbs above us that offered a dim lighting. I stepped a few steps away from the man who had just put himself half into the shadows. I could hear something but I wasn't sure what it was, it sounded like words being whispered but they seemed to move all around me and the group as if they were on a breeze but there was no breeze, in fact the air felt stuffy, so I imagine there wasn't even a draft for fresh air to come in at all. Before any of us could speak, the man who was standing half in the shadows was impaled by...something. What it was exactly I don't know, it wasn't any spear or sword that I had seen before, and in my opinion it wasn't human at all, in fact I think it was part of some thing, some creature. Whatever it was, it impaled him through the back of the neck. It came out the front of his neck several inches and instantly blood was spraying out of him like a broken fire hydrant. His blood splattered against the tiles and walls, staining them a haunting red color. Almost immediately the group took off down the hall, running as a group rather than splitting up, because for some reason people feel safer as a group, especially in situations of life and death. I ran after them, looking back over my shoulder every few paces to see if the thing -- creature -- was following us, but all I could see was the man laying face first in a pool of his own blood. As the group continued to run, I looked behind me again to see the man being dragged into the shadows, but I wasn't able to see anything other than his corpse.

We ran for what felt like half an hour. When we finally stopped everyone was too damn tired to be suspicious of one another. It was at this time that I was able to at take some more detailed observations of those around me. One of the girls had jet black hair, which I could see wasn't natural; and another had strawberry blonde that was leaning more towards red head than blonde. The other two in the group were men. One was young and of average height, he was wearing all black, which in turn made it very difficult to see him in the dim lighting. The other man was average height but leaning towards being overweight. It was an odd concoction of people for sure. I was a writer for newspaper and for several online columns and such.

I was just about to ask if we should introduce ourselves when one of the men reached for something and a moment later was holding a scalpel in his hand. Yelling at us to get away from him, and naturally, we all did. None of them tried to talk him out of waving the scalpel around and as far as I know no one was thinking that his yelling might attract that thing -- creature -- that had just killed someone else a few moments ago. But I was. In fact, that was all I was thinking about at the moment. So I voiced it.

"Shut up man! You're gonna attract the attention of that thing that just killed that other guy earlier! So shut up before we all get killed!" I hissed at him in a hoarse whisper that was a little louder than most whispers but still quieter than everyday talking volume. Almost immediately he lunged at me with the scalpel, slashing wildly as he went. I dodged the blow for the most part but was nicked in the arm. Pain shot through me as the razor sharp blade cut through my skin and shed first blood. The man stumbled, being thrown off balance from not connecting fully with his target, and fell down onto the tiled floor. He looked at me with eyes that burned with rage -- unquenchable rage -- which I thought was very odd since I'd never seen him before in my life.

The man had fallen in such a way that he was just at the edge of the shadows. He suddenly went from glaring daggers at me to an expression of utter terror and fear. At first I thought something was behind me, until he turned his head towards the shadows and I already knew what would happen next. I started running without even thinking twice and the others followed me, although I had a fairly decent head start on them. The seemingly endless hallway went from sections of darkness to sections of dimly light areas from the crappy lighting above in the ceiling. As I ran I heard a scream -- I recognized the voice to belong to the man who had attacked me with the scalpel -- and then a wet plop sound, as if his head had been sliced off and fell onto the floor, splattering his brains everywhere.

I shook those thoughts from my head immediately and focused on running. I was just about to run into an area of darkness and as soon as my body left the light, I felt a coldness rush through my very soul, and those whispering voices seemed more potent, as if they were burrowing into my mind and breaking my sanity down bit by bit. Needless to say, it was very painful. I didn't stop or slow down for fear of being stuck in the area of darkness.

Once I exited the darkness, I kept running for almost one hundred paces into the lighted area, which was several hundred paces long. I collapsed from sheer exhaustion in the light area. I looked up only when I heard the approaching footsteps that seemed to echo with heavy thuds through the hallway. I saw only one man and one woman emerging from the darkness area, I was just thinking about the second woman when a scream of agony and terror came from the darkness and only a forearm writhed out of the darkness but was then swallowed whole; my thought was answered rather horrifically to say the least.

The remaining survivors stopped just a few feet away from me, both of them clutching their knees and regaining their breath. But something didn't feel right about them, their actions were too clean cut, too uniform. I didn't know what to do, I couldn't run as I was exhausted, and I couldn't hide in the darkness because the things -- creatures in there -- would kill me and if they didn't whatever else (supernatural perhaps?) was in there would drive me insane within minutes. So I did the only thing I could: I sat up and waited to see if I was right or if I was wrong.

Due to their clutching their knees I couldn't see their faces, let alone their eyes but when they stood up straight and I saw their eyes, I instantly knew something was wrong. Their eyes were appeared to be normal but for a moment, only a brief moment, their eyes were all black and not only that their eyes were like windows into their minds or their souls. And all I saw was malicious insanity.

The next several minutes are a bit of a haze in my mind but I remember them clearly enough to tell them to you.

It seemed that when they looked into my eyes, they knew that I knew that they weren't normal. So they ran at me, their eyes back to that horrific all black state guttural sounds viciously coming from their throats. I scrambled to my feet and -- somehow -- began to run again. As I ran, I was scanning back and forth from either side of the hallway, looking for something that I could use as a weapon, even a metal tray would be better than nothing; but there was nothing, in which case nothing is all I had. So, I ran, and ran, and ran. I ran clear through the light area and into the darkness, always those two things -- creatures maybe? -- were following me, gaining closer and closer to being within arms reach of me. But once I got into the darkness, they stopped -- for whatever reason. I know because I looked back just after I had entered the darkness -- the pain was back instantaneously and the voices were grinding and chipping away at my sanity right where they left off -- and I saw them screech to a halt almost instantly. And, despite the pain and other things, I slowed to a halt as well, curious as to why they didn't follow me into the darkness, after all, all the other things -- creatures -- only stayed in the darkness, so why couldn't they enter the darkness?

My curious thoughts were cut off by the immense pain so I began to go through the darkness in a run, wanting to be back into the lighted areas where I was "safe" -- to one degree or another. It seemed to me that I was running for nearly an hour until I reached another lighted area. My mind was so muddled that it was a conscious effort to think of even the most trivial and simple things. To make a decision was damn near impossible and to have an intellectual thought seemed like a feat only God himself could achieve, not mere mortals. I stumbled to and fro, my vision was blurry and uncertain, and my mind felt like a bucket of worthless mud. Eventually I was able to continue from the lighted area and into an area of more darkness. The pain wasn't severe as before, but I have a feeling that was because the lobe of my brain that sensed pain was virtually overloaded, if not fried. And I continued to half stumble, half walk through the darkness, hearing the voices float around me saying things in another -- unearthly -- language that translated to my doing vile, violent deeds in my mind of mud. Yet some part of me resisted these thoughts, it fought with fervent, virtuous strength against the evil that was seeping into my mind, driving me towards the gates of utter insanity.

I had been walking for...I don't even know, hours upon hours it felt like; my legs were rubber and burned with each step and my feet felt like they'd walked barefoot over too many large stones. I was just about to sink to my knees and accept death when I struck something hard, yet familiar in this strange environment, with my face. I reeled back slightly but after regaining my balance knocked on the hard substance and discovered that it was glass. And at that time only two words were in my thoughts -- or rather lack thereof: glass shatters.

I slammed all my body weight into the glass and heard nothing. I did it again and was rewarded with a gentle crack sound that was so beautiful to me at the time that I was almost crying tears of joy. I stepped only as far as I could without taking my hand off the glass, for I feared if I wasn't touching it that it might disappear and I'd be trapped still in this form of horrific hell. I slammed my body into the glass and it shattered. I fell through the window and into brilliant light that had never felt so amazing in my entire life. But only after a few seconds did I realize that I was falling, but just as I realized that I hit the something solid with a jarring smack. I can only assume it was the ground. I lay there in the sun for a few moments, unmoving, in utter pain and yet at the same time in utter bliss. Even the fact that I could feel pain seemed to be a blessing almost. And then I lost consciousness, for how long I know not.

When I came back to consciousness, it was evening and the sun was setting but there was another person standing beside me on their phone talking to someone, now I know that they were calling nine-one-one. Awhile later a paramedic vehicle drove up and took me to the hospital. And there I am now, recovering from injuries sustained by the fall.

I haven't told anyone of what occurred in that place, I told the doctors that I didn't remember; but obviously that is a lie. But how I wish I didn't remember a single thing about the entire incident but I do. I've always said that you can lie to others but you can't lie to yourself because you will always know the truth. And I see now how true that statement was. The only thing I have to prove to myself that it really happened is the cut on my arm from the man with the scalpel. Other than that, no evidence remains whatsoever, if, that is, there even was evidence to begin with.