That black night, in those stony alleys of London, the burning flame of the lantern was spreading less light and more terror. I felt, time and again, as if the yellow glow of that lantern had been imprinted forever upon my cursed fate. Those decaying, dark alleys seemed to be calling out to me, screaming—"If you have the heart, try taking just one step into these alleys of death..."
My heart was trembling; my soul kept whispering to stop... do not go there, or that lethal silence will swallow you alive.
Chham.. chham.. chham.. chham.. The sky had torn open; the rain was so torrential it felt like needles piercing the skin. I stood there like a statue at the mouth of that wretched alley. For a while, there was nothing but silence and the sound of water. Then suddenly, with a cold gust of wind, the wooden door of a nearby ancient house creaked—'Charr... Charr...' The stench of that rotting wood and the smell of rusted iron choked my breath. It felt as if someone was standing behind that darkness, merely waiting for me to take one more step. My feet, drenched in mud, were growing heavy, yet the pull of those alleys was dragging me inside.