Emily Singleton II

I am still uneasy about heading underground into the rat infested tunnels that are home to the winding metal snakes that weave far and wide beneath the city streets. The yellow line, a warning, still haunts me. The musty odor sets me on edge. The blackness waiting just around the bend is enough to make me want to turn back.

How it must have stung when your body hit the carbon steel, your hollow bones clanging against the rails, breaking from the force. (In your stupor, you may not have noticed the blood) The dim glow of the distant mechanical beast grew brighter, harsher, as it sped up, staying true to its mark.

I don't like to think of what happened next. (I wish I knew what to say to your father, even after months have passed).