Tuesday, 25 April 2017


At first, it was small.
It was the sound of footsteps padding behind them. Surely, just paranoia. It was dark here. Claustrophobic, too, and laced with the ancient scent of death and earth. They inhaled, and in their mind’s eye, stepped back in time to see fresh bodies packed tight.
The newly-engaged couple had gone to Paris and dared each other to explore the infamous ghastly catacombs. In the 1700s, the cemeteries were crowded, so the French stored their dead under the city, reinforcing tunnels. To this day, their bones were stacked high and far, skulls grinning vacantly in the darkness.
They trespassed late at night, avoiding guards and slipping into the catacombs. But the cameras saw them. They crackled with white static a moment after, causing a guard’s head to turn to the display. He sat up in his chair, cursing, and oblivious to the interlopers.
The pair moved deeper into the catacombs, and what was small swelled. The footsteps. One set became many, coupled with the dry scratching of bone against stone. Their nerves broke. They ran, flashlight rays bouncing against walls of skeletons. In the brief illumination, they could see bones move, dust shaking loose from remains.
Their flashlight flickered, then died.
Pitch-black consumed them.
Then so did the others.

I wrote this piece for the 200-Word Tuesdays Magazine, selecting the theme of "Catacombs." I'll add a link to the story when they post it. Right now they're going through a bit of a transition, so when that's complete I'll update this entry. Just wanted to post something fun because I haven't in a while. Been pretty busy with the manuscript.
Take care, everyone!

Image credit goes to Scottt Stulberg Photography

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