Could someone tell me if I'm getting the suspense right or if it just seems like inane babbling? Excerpted from Ash-Chapter Tw( ): A cold chill blows up your spine. You shiver. Darkness enshrouds you, your heart aches and your body quakes. You can feel the darkness, it's a palpable vale that covers your entire being, tightening itself around you like a boa with a mouse. The kind of fear that paralyzes you with just the thought of it, sends chills up your arms and legs, radiating into your core and turning your spine into stone. Your breath quickens into a series of shallow gasps that can barely sustain you. Lungs cry out in vain, only answered by sharp pains, heated needles driven through them, cutting off the little breath there was still in them. And yet still they pump, pulling in nothing but nothing. It stands there, behind you, a nameless shadow reaching out to get you. To strangle you, slit your throat, tear out your innards, one of a thousand different things that you could never-and would never want to- imagine. Standing there like granite you have no say in the unspeakable things that could be done to you. This isn't Rocky, this isn't just some poor angry soul trapped in a hideous body with pain to share with the world, it's a true monster, the kind of evil that acts only for the sake of it. Wrapped around you like some horrid bow is the kind of darkness that haunts the nightmares of a sadist, filling the minds of those who delight in horror with oh so much horror not even they could look upon it without being driven into a raving fit of madness. Heh...! Your shriveled lungs weep for air and you fall to your knees into the blanket of snow. Ugh...it hurts... The snow becomes a burning ash tossed up by an empyrean blaze, each and every fleck burning through your skin. It burns... oh God, I'm on fire, it hurts so much! The fiend that stands behind you, just out of site, tickles your shoulders with black wings, sending fire into the nerves beneath the flesh, burning your clothing, and re-clothing you in flames. Your head spins from the lack of necessary oxygen, you cough up blood and spit and vomit, staining the pure ground. Ash coats your esophagus, your eyes water from the soot as well. Even though you lie in the middle of a crossroad and there's nothing but white as far as the eye can see -snow, fog, ash, the little stars dancing before your eyes as hypoxia overwhelms you- you are stricken with a sense of claustrophobia. Even in such an agoraphobic place you feel the walls are closing in. Suddenly everything feel great. You laugh to yourself as your hands turn blue. Ha, ha, oh God, why is this funny? Your arms tremble and you can't hold yourself up. Your vision shakes, you fall next to the pile of your spit, blood, vomit, laughing at your own demise. Oh, heh, I'm... dying. Is this what it's like? It hurts so much, my whole bodies is burning. But it's so cold... You convulse in the snow, giving off week and unearthly chuckles. After a while, your heart slows down and the convulsions stop. I don't... wa...n...'... it hurts.... It doesn't matter though, your last thought remains incomplete as you expire in the snow, laying with your cheek in a puddle of your own freezing blood and vomit with God knows what creature from the darkest ward of Pandaemonium standing over you, laughing from the shadows.