The tunnel is as dark as it is long. She isn’t sure how long she has been walking. Her feet ache as they step over the sleepers. Often she trips on the rails. There is only the absolute black before her which turns the narrow limits of the tunnel into an endless void.
She must keep going. It’s behind her.
There is a pinprick of light in the distance. Following her. Getting closer. The chug of the engines, huffing louder as they approach. The rails judder.
She starts to run. To stumble. Panic runs under her skin.
Hot air blows down the tunnel, heralding its arrival. The iron behemoth. Its hungry furnace. Its devouring maw.
Paddy Dobson
2nd February 2022