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8
The flickering light registered first. It seemed to come from all corners of the room beyond the door, all directions until it replaced everything in Janice's world with cold fire. The door slammed behind her with a defiant thud, leaving her alone with whatever was causing the prismatic world. Slowly, images began to come to the forefront.
An animated demon perched on a mountain, summoning spectral figures from the ground.
A man, standing in a busy street, throws a Molotov cocktail into an oncoming car's window.
Janice could now tell the walls had been covered with sheets of thick plastic and an unseen projector was throwing up images on every possible surface. The air was full of noise, a dirty, toothache inspiring static that swelled to a volume which Janice feared would do permanent damage to her inner ear.
If I ever get out of here… Janice thought to herself.
A 50s era rock band plays
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