The Tunnel

The lights flickered casting an ominous glow throughout the tunnel, making him shiver. He dragged his hand across the wall, gathering dust and grime. At one point, he hit a rusty nail. The warm blood flowing from the wound contrasted the cold draught blowing in the hauntingly beautiful passage. The wind streamed through the windows, twirling pieces of torn paper and peeled-paint flakes before dropping them into the void.

The tunnel had once been a drug den and a shelter for the homeless. Its cemented walls were covered with vulgar graffiti depicting nude women. The floor used to be littered with hypodermic needles, broken bottles and empty spray cans. The air used to reek with the pungent smell of stale urine, sweat, and blood. As he went deeper down the passage, it grew darker. All signs of life had vanished. Memories of the tunnel came rushing back to him as he fell onto the ground.

A heinous laugh echoed through the corridor, rebounding of the crumpling walls. The cold feeling of dread returned in his body as he heard someone clapping behind him.

Welcome back . I’ve been expecting you. 

***

Neha

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