Underground.

From clammy walls, rust burdened mediæval tools belonging to an unknown workman of yesteryear stood to attention. Oozing down, around and over the apparatus, foul water fumbled; tinged red by the oxidized metal. The feverish walls shimmered, writhing by torchlight.

Gushing water fills the ears.

The passage grew tighter with each step. The shrieking howl of metal clashing reverberated; shattering the low white noise of streaming water into an echoing oblivion.

The cry. The sound. The doom.

Behind the door.

©DJA 2018

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