Coming down here seemed like a good idea, at the time. Now I’m not so sure. My problem is I just can’t resist a dare. You’d think I’d have learned by now.

This corridor started behind an ordinary-looking door. The walls at that end are painted plaster, with no decoration. The floor’s tiled. There’re no windows and, when they closed the door behind me, I couldn’t see any further than the light from my lamp could reach, which wasn’t far, believe me.

After I’d been walking a few minutes, the lamp went out and I couldn’t get it lit again. That’s when I started to lose enthusiasm for the whole thing. I kept going, though. Hoping to come out into daylight at the other end, I suppose.

I had to feel my way along the wall. It’d changed from plaster to bare brick or stone and I could tell there was something mossy and slimy over a lot of it. I seemed to be walking down a bit of a slope but it was impossible to tell.

I was getting nowhere, so I turned round to go back to the entrance. I can’t understand it but, even though I’ve been going faster on the way back and it feels like for at least twice as long, I’m still in the same corridor. I’m sure I’m still walking downhill and the walls are still damp and slippery.

Just now, I was convinced there was something down here with me. I could hear breathing. I couldn’t tell how far away it was, or where the sound was coming from, but I was sure it was there. It was all starting to get to me by then. Then I thought of something. I tried holding my breath. The sound stopped, so there’s your explanation.

It’s funny, the way your imagination works when you’re on your own in a strange place and with next to no light. The least change in the darkness looks like it’s some definite shape, ‘specially a face of some kind. I have to be honest. I’ll be glad to get out of here. The air’s very close and damp.

As soon as I get out, I’m going to get a nice warm meal and a big glass of beer. I think I’ll eat it sitting next to a crackling fire. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I can almost taste it.

Now I can hear footsteps.



18 thoughts on “The Corridor

  1. Very good story. I am 52 and am still terrified of the dark. This is me when there is no/little light. I have absolutel panic and imagine all kinds of things!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, re it being primeval. It isn’t rational at all that as a 52 year old grandmother I have to sleep with a light on. I know it’s ridiculous, but it’s just ‘there’ with me. A very good piece that I identified with very much!

        Liked by 1 person

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