Chapter no. 2

Up... The grim ceiling above let dustballs hang on cobwebs suspended by insulation squares, the kind found in offices or really any low ceiling building. The humm of his hospital bed as it floated down the hall filled the silent air. Its ominous glow lighting the floor. But this was no hospital. It was the wrong kind of silence. The air was filled with tension and secrecy, the people walking by the bed only looking ahead. Their faces straight and steely. In hospitals the air was alive with stress or fear for loved ones. But hear it was dead. The silence like a vulture, spying on its pray. Waiting to consume them into its eerie darkness. But today was not the day tom died, it was the day he became... The Sköderman.

(my chapters are short because i lack imagination)