It was sticky and hot… and red, oh so red. And it was in her brain. It pulsated and spasmed, but mostly it screamed.

She was in the quad, looking out at the students mulling around sans direction; sheep trapped in a gated pen. The screaming subsided, replaced by a buzzing sound, the sweet cacophony of flies trapped in her ears.

She blinked her eyes and all the sheep had become likened to her brain: a reddish-brown color that oozed forth. And her hands were covered in the same manner. She smiled. The flies were buzzing and they loved her.

A tiny man with a tiny badge shivered before her, his well-oiled machine held forth and shaking uncontrollably. One, two, three, four thunder cracks spewed forth and she felt pain, unbearably blissful pain, which felled her.

“Finis Dierum,” she silently mouthed, unable to contain enough air to make the sounds. A tightening sensation in her chest made her spasm, all control abandoned.

When she stood back up, she wanted to see what the little man’s insides looked like.