(no subject)
I've just got in from work and written this short piece of almost-fiction. I haven't actually read it through yet, but it's the first time in a long time I've written something that is complete, so it deserves a posting. Read it if you feel like it, I have no idea how good/not it is.
She hurried through the semi-lit corridors in the basement, checking all the main lights were off, checking nobody was left behind at the end of the night. Normally this was amongst her favourite parts of the day, putting the building to bed, listening to the quiet after a busy day. But today something felt different, ominous, she felt strangely on edge and had done for a couple of hours.
“It's nonsense” She told herself firmly. “Nothing's different tonight, everything's just the same as normal.” Even to herself, she sounded scared, like she was trying to convince herself of something that evidently wasn't true. She glanced nervously around, but there wasn't much to see. Emergency lights left the corridor in the gloom that occupies the space between shadow and true light. The plain white walls did their best to reflect what light there was but tonight they seemed more like the walls in an asylum than the walls of a pub basement. Stark concrete met her glance, and she shook her head, trying to clear it of thoughts of lunatics waiting round the corner to attack her.
“There's nobody here” She told herself again, taking a deep breath and feeling the knot of tension rising another notch inside her. Her footsteps quickened, hurrying towards the door at the end of the corridor and the light that awaited her on the other side. She had time for a fleeting wonder that the notion of light could make everything seem so much better, less dangerous, before her outstretched hand thrust palm first against the door, swinging it back against its hinges.
In her imagination she could almost feel the crazy man behind her, moving quicker than she had down the corridor, catching up. Another second and she was through the door into the stairwell and the blessed light. She laughed at herself, feeling all her demons dissipate under the harsh electric glow, and started to climb the stairs back to the ground floor.
Suddenly, darkness. Utterly complete, because there are no windows and the exit signs are on the same circuit as the main lights. She feels her stomach lurch and her heart stutter and then speed up before she can rationalise it to herself - just a fuse gone, or the bulb, or something. Nothing to worry about, just need to get to the top of the stairs and you'll be fine. It helps, a little, and she convinces her legs that they can move forward, feeling tentatively for the edge of the next step.
Another step, and then two, and she starts to breathe normally again, she has the bannister firmly under one hand and she knows the top isn't fair away. Another step, and then something runs up the back of her calf with a soft whicker of cloth. She shrieks and bolts for the top, missing a step almost immediately and hitting the edge of a stair with both knees. Almost sobbing, fighting the sudden heaviness of all her limbs, the complete paralysis that is threatening to take over her senses, she pushes herself upwards again, groping for the door handle in the blackness in front of her. She hits the door palms first, and more by luck than anything else hits the push-release mechanism that opens the door and sends her sprawling onto the landing.
She hits the floor again, landing on her already-sore knees. The pain doesn't register for the moment, instead she stares behind her, waiting for whatever tried to grab her to make an appearance.
There is nothing.
She curls her legs under her, meaning to stand up, when that soft whicker sound happens again, and she feels a pressure now along the inside of her leg. She looks down and utters an almost hysterical laugh for the stupidity of it.
It's a piece of packing tape, stuck to the material of her trousers. Somewhere between giddy with relief and tearfully shaky with the pain that she can now feel in her knees, she goes to look for the fuse box.
She hurried through the semi-lit corridors in the basement, checking all the main lights were off, checking nobody was left behind at the end of the night. Normally this was amongst her favourite parts of the day, putting the building to bed, listening to the quiet after a busy day. But today something felt different, ominous, she felt strangely on edge and had done for a couple of hours.
“It's nonsense” She told herself firmly. “Nothing's different tonight, everything's just the same as normal.” Even to herself, she sounded scared, like she was trying to convince herself of something that evidently wasn't true. She glanced nervously around, but there wasn't much to see. Emergency lights left the corridor in the gloom that occupies the space between shadow and true light. The plain white walls did their best to reflect what light there was but tonight they seemed more like the walls in an asylum than the walls of a pub basement. Stark concrete met her glance, and she shook her head, trying to clear it of thoughts of lunatics waiting round the corner to attack her.
“There's nobody here” She told herself again, taking a deep breath and feeling the knot of tension rising another notch inside her. Her footsteps quickened, hurrying towards the door at the end of the corridor and the light that awaited her on the other side. She had time for a fleeting wonder that the notion of light could make everything seem so much better, less dangerous, before her outstretched hand thrust palm first against the door, swinging it back against its hinges.
In her imagination she could almost feel the crazy man behind her, moving quicker than she had down the corridor, catching up. Another second and she was through the door into the stairwell and the blessed light. She laughed at herself, feeling all her demons dissipate under the harsh electric glow, and started to climb the stairs back to the ground floor.
Suddenly, darkness. Utterly complete, because there are no windows and the exit signs are on the same circuit as the main lights. She feels her stomach lurch and her heart stutter and then speed up before she can rationalise it to herself - just a fuse gone, or the bulb, or something. Nothing to worry about, just need to get to the top of the stairs and you'll be fine. It helps, a little, and she convinces her legs that they can move forward, feeling tentatively for the edge of the next step.
Another step, and then two, and she starts to breathe normally again, she has the bannister firmly under one hand and she knows the top isn't fair away. Another step, and then something runs up the back of her calf with a soft whicker of cloth. She shrieks and bolts for the top, missing a step almost immediately and hitting the edge of a stair with both knees. Almost sobbing, fighting the sudden heaviness of all her limbs, the complete paralysis that is threatening to take over her senses, she pushes herself upwards again, groping for the door handle in the blackness in front of her. She hits the door palms first, and more by luck than anything else hits the push-release mechanism that opens the door and sends her sprawling onto the landing.
She hits the floor again, landing on her already-sore knees. The pain doesn't register for the moment, instead she stares behind her, waiting for whatever tried to grab her to make an appearance.
There is nothing.
She curls her legs under her, meaning to stand up, when that soft whicker sound happens again, and she feels a pressure now along the inside of her leg. She looks down and utters an almost hysterical laugh for the stupidity of it.
It's a piece of packing tape, stuck to the material of her trousers. Somewhere between giddy with relief and tearfully shaky with the pain that she can now feel in her knees, she goes to look for the fuse box.