... Subway ...
Written from Prompt in LJ community start_writing_2
Word Count: 465
Type: Original fiction
the only part
Greg ran down the steps into the bleached light of the subway station. The air was stale, metallic, and sweet like carnival on his tongue. He panted, heaving in breaths of warm air, dragged his thumb roughly across his bottom lip and stopped on the last step.
The train was pulling out of the platform. Metal clanging began to cover the buzz of the crowd and the clicking of heels. It gained speed, the repetitive steel clacking rattling Greg's spine. Then - gone - a last whoosh of hot air blew his hair over his face and it was quiet once more.
Annoyed, Greg pushed his hair from his face and felt his blood turn to ice. Michael stood on the opposite platform, weight shifted to his back leg, arms folded casually across his chest. He raised an eyebrow in Greg's direction, lifted a fist to his lips and hid a smile.
Greg grabbed the stair rail behind him and stared across the oily metal tracks between them. He took a step backwards and stumbled slightly on the bottom step. Never taking his eyes of Michael he righted himself quickly and then cautiously felt for the next step up with his foot.
Michael took a step forward dropping his hands to his side. His face was open and dark. There was no hiding the malice in Michael's eyes.
"No," Greg whispered. "Not now." He watched Michael raise his hand palm forward in acknowledgement, turn on his heel and run up the opposite stairs.
It took seconds for Greg's body to response to his commands. Fear washed over him as he wiped cold sweat from his upper lip. He bolted to the edge of the platform, dropped almost silently onto the gravel beside the rails, crouched over and scurried into the darkness of the tunnel. It was all he could do to keep from tripping on the uneven ground. He fell against the rough tunnel wall more than once, tearing his jacket and taking with him a huge gash in his upper arm. When the light of the station had all but disappeared he broke into a run forcing the metallic air in and out of his bursting lungs.
There was light up ahead - he pushed himself to speed up. Legs burning, stumbling, panting he broke out into the sunlight from the darkness of the tunnel and scrambled up a grassy bank merging the flood of people on the street.
Greg smoothed his hair back, pulled his t-shirt up over his face to wipe off the grime and forced himself to slow down and match the pace of the people he walked with. He could do this. Trembling slightly he disappeared into the ocean of faces never once glancing behind him. He probably should have looked behind him.
story and words and photos Copyright Charlotte Kinzie 2009.
email for permission to use my stuffs.