I have written a few other item similar to this, however, I seldom write anything that I intend upon using. This is just a snipit of my writing however. You likely never will see any of my writing because a good author never discusses anything.

In the silence there could be heard only the slow--drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip-- of water hitting the cracked stone floor of the dungeon. Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound of little volume and little substance banged against the columns and walls and chains and caverns of this deep dark. splash. splash. splash. Each drop that dripped definately from the dungeon down to the dirty floor dropped with no knowledge of time or any illusions of such. All that the drop knew was now, was the fall, was the splash was the slow descent into the earth.
Drip
Drip
Drip

nice, very descriptive