Page 189 of Satan's Spawn
The only indication I’m getting anywhere is the dingy white tiles now covering the arch around me. I finally approach the blue light, which is blinking inside a small glass case on the wall.
“Shit…” I murmur, looking around one more time for at least a sign before I move again.
There’s nothing, but since somebody took the time to decorate, I can only assume it’s for a reason.
I switch to walking again, allowing my heartbeat to settle.
I’m far enough that the blue light now appears as a dot behind me, and the ambience is back to dark and dingy.
I run my fingers along the tile, the coolness of the surface bringing me an odd sense of comfort.
A small draft brings prickles to my skin, and with that, a new glimmer of hope.
If there’s a chill, there’s a way.
To outside at least.
I hike my bag over my shoulder, fully expecting to find light at the end of this shitty tunnel, but all I keep facing is more darkness.
And rumbling.
A lot of rumbling.
The amount of rumbling that has pebbles bouncing like tiny little rubber balls. Empty soda cans wobbling like a fish out of water.
I whip my head both ways, darkness encompassing both, and decide to continue against the breeze.
Until a deafening shrieking has me covering my ears, the sound vibrating off the tiled walls.
White light in the distance suddenly blinds me, approaching fast, and I don’t need to be a genius to know it’s a train.
My feet are already moving in the opposite direction when my brain finally catches up with how dire of a situation I’m in.
The ground shaking has me stumbling between strides, and my hair is dancing wildly behind me as I run for my life.
I can feel the train approaching like a landslide, and I pick up my pace, not giving a shit about breaking a damn toe.
Won’t be a toe left of me if this train wins this race.
I could feel tears, and unfiltered terror squeezing me, but I keep fighting—moving—determined to survive.
The light surrounds me from behind like the gates of heaven, and all I can think about is how I’m not ready to pass them. Especially since my slate is no longer as clean as it used to be.
The sound of a horn blows wildly, telling me to get the fuck out of the way. But there’s nowhere for me to run but straight, and the same for the train.
I’m going to die.
Just like Dad.
Will he be at the gates waiting for me?
Will I be allowed in?
I’m about to accept mortal defeat when a body appears a few feet ahead, waving me on.
Is that you, Dad? Have you come to take me home?I wonder to myself.
“Hurry the fuck up!” I think I hear a voice scream, pulling me from my vision.
