Howl
You hurry down the long empty passageway, staggering, as if drugged, dragging the heavy weight behind you.
The hall is brightly lit at this hour, yet strangely devoid of life. Your footsteps echo down the endless corridor like hammers on iron.
It’s not too late. You can do it. Just run!
Overcome with dread, you at last arrive at the portal. It’s dark now and vacant. A feral howl of despair forces itself from your throat. Your hopes of escaping The City disappear like so much wasted breath.
It’s left you behind again, the red-eye, the day’s last lonely flight.
Dr. Saxlove “Puddy Tat” [ especially for Substack writer,
]. click arrow 3 times
Waiting for a train is probably THE best time to read this. I may start strolling to the platform soon!! Nicely done, Sharron.
Mercy! Dr. Saxlove is bookmarked for a later long languid knitting session. Thank you. And also, I enjoyed your story. That plunge at the end when the gate is closed off to all chances. And that photo! Unsplash strikes again with a very appropriate image. In fact, did you get the image first, then write the story? It's perfect.