The ground and walls shake violently, and the windows rattle in their wooden frames. At first, I don’t move, unable to make sense of what’s happening and why? The ground’s moving. The noise is like extended thunder, only worse because the vibrations are coming from below.
The lights on the ceiling swing madly and diagonal cracks appear on the walls. Dread creeps over me like an icy chill. I climb off the bed and crash to the floor. The ground shakes like a boat caught in a storm.
I crawl on my hand and knees to the door and quickly crawl into the corridor. The door slams shut behind me with force. The wooden frame sends sharp slithers of wood in my direction. I roll out of the way to avoid being struck by one. The ground stops moving, but I know this is just a lull.
Panic-stricken voices rise from the ground floor. I stare down the large staircase and turn around to go down them backward, on my hands and knees.
I make it down the first few steps when the ground rumbles and moves again. My body is thrown to the side, and I roll down the remaining steps like a ping pong ball, bouncing painfully off every step.
I land in a heap at the bottom. The pristine white walls are covered in deep cracks. The light fittings hang by a thread, their wires dangling loose and emitting sparks.