important

The sun shone down onto the fields whiles a pure white sheet of snow, delicately glistened and twinkled in the rays. Branches laced with a formation of ice crystals sparkled and glistened while the berries on the trees were barely seen and the flower beds had became frozen. A bitter breeze blew as the unsheltered trees became scarce of flourishing leaves. The bustling streets suddenly became tranquil but their presence left many anxious, as if someone would suddenly pounce on them like a leopard.
The hospital yard stood a small lodge surrounded by a perfect forest of nettles. Its roof was rusty and the chimney left many to feel like the hospital would tumble down without warning just like an avalanche. The steps at the front-door were rotting away and were overgrown with grass and traces of stucco. The hospital was enclosed by a grey fence with nails on it. These nails had a peculiar, desolated look to it which was only found in prisons.
Inside there was a very spacious room which stretched out and made up most of the lodge. Remnants piled up in heaps, crumpled and mouldering, which gave out a sickly smell. The ceiling was as sooty as a chimney, while the room was full of fumes. Men in blue dressing-gowns were sitting down and placed their head onto the monotonous, white-coloured walls, they were the lunatics. Among the lunatics a stench of smouldered wicks, smoke from the burning kindle and ammonia suddenly arose.
The doctor, a man named Dr Brown, had not taken in any new mental cases for a long time, due to the fact that there were not many people who were fond of visiting lunatic asylums. The doctor was a religious man, whose face looked surly and from all his scars while his eyes were minute and monotonous. He also had this minute red nose that was as shiny as the Christmas lights hanging from the chimney during the festive season. He was also quite scraggy, with a paralysed left arm that would aimlessly swayback and forth every time he walked. Suddenly a new face emerged from the shadows; it was the local drunkard…
The local drunkard was a man named Lawrence Nightingale; he was tall but very thin and had a slight stoop. Lawrence wore a haggard and mournful look wherever he went and his skin was as white as the powdery snow that fell outside. He had come for help from Dr Brown but as the clock struck thrice Dr Brown headed for the door.
He knew that he had better leave before the sun set or face the consequences, as soon after the sun set the city became a harsh place where truth and justice did not always win and greed corrupted the minds of innocent people turning them savage. The alleys were packed full of awfully shady characters that would wander throughout the barely illuminated city. With that he grabbed his coat and briskly walked home.