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     The morgue, Delilah had been brought to he morgue, not the second floor. The room was dimly lit, a dull and rather depressing shade. To Delilah's right were several small cabinets and drawers stretched along the length of the wall, they were aligned with assorted objects, scissors, tweezers, gauze and the like. To her left, there were five tables equally spread across the walls' length, and on these tables were five white sheets spread over unmoving shapes. Corpses, five corpses.

     The room itself did not smell of death, though it was obvious that these were the bodies of the deceased. The air was already chilled, holding an unfriendly cold. These corpses seemed to only solidify this unwelcome feeling. Or perhaps it was something else. It was then that the lights flickered, the room turning black as night, but only for a moment, returning to the their previous state.

[center]And there he stood.

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     That same dark shade, that white-eyed ghoul from before.
There he stood in the doorway before Delilah, across the room, unmoving and blocking her way. The same sinister aura from before filled the air in the cold, gloomy morgue. A radiance of pure evil.