It’s a foggy evening, and you’re taking a regular shortcut home through the graveyard.
A construction team in town are operating some kind of cutting machinery. By the time the sound reaches you, it resembles a fading air-raid siren.
At the same time, your iPod shuffles to a bad encoding, and all it plays is static.
And suddenly, it’s all you can do to control your bladder.
That theme still scares the bejeezus out of me.