As the somber chanting continues, the darkness gathers around you, thick and wet — it sticks to your clothes,

As the somber chanting continues, the darkness gathers around you, thick and wet — it sticks to your clothes, your hands, and clots your hair and face. The fluid gathers on your head like a crown, then flows, almost molasses-like, down your cheeks and your forehead... then seeps into the corner of your eyes, eagerly, hungrily. As it touches your eyes, pain courses through you and your vision becomes black, then a flickering of greys and whites, like a thousand tiny insects were making knife-cuts across your vision.