Tolls from the bells. The air was pulsating with the dead and the dying, the hushes of their bitter tones were too quiet to detect, but you could feel them. An ominous chill would slither down your spine and into your lungs like an adder through the grass. And there it caught, petrifying your breath until it came out in short bursts and white clouds. Your body would ache from the anguish in the air and you felt the complete utter despair of this world and the next, and had no wish to be in either. Your only desire was that you could continue on, in a frivolous existence, and escape notice of the horrors awaiting you both here and there. You plead and you pray. And still the bells toll.

It's okay, perhaps a bit too vague and generic. Try using less hackneyed imagery and it'll be a fine opener.

awful