The Perfect Spot

Tilly stopped dead at the sight of the tunnel. The train tracks disappeared into the black maw, a ladder to the jaws of hell.

‘Come on, Tilly, you can do this.’

‘I can’t. What if they’re in there?’

‘There’s no other way. It’ll take another day to walk around and we have to reach the bunker by tonight. You know what’ll happen if we don’t.’

‘That’s night time right there. It’s the perfect spot for them.’

‘Ten minutes and we’ll be on the other side.’

Tilly stepped into the shadows, hot fetid air engulfed her. A rustle echoed from the depths.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller


This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.


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