Ghost Grave - Chapter 3 Nazi Babe with a Cute Smile (New Original Fiction)
❌ Notes on the underground ❌
Deep down in the underground. In a deep dark place where there is no sound. Deep deep down, in the darkest night. In a deep dark place where there is no light. Deep deep down, in a deep dark place that nobody knows. In a deep dark place that nobody goes. Lives a demon...
"Alan... Alan Marshall!" a deep dark voice called out.
Alan sat up. He was on a disused train. Alone. The train's emergency lights were on. Something didn't feel right. He... how did he get here? Why was he sleeping on the floor?
Many questions circled in his mind, but his thoughts couldn't connect. Something in his gut overwhelmed him. A feeling he had to go somewhere. To find someone. Or to escape from someone....thing.
The train platform was in the underground. The concrete tomb was dimly lit. Several metallic cone shaped lights hung from above. Metallic and concrete grids stuck out of the ground acting as columns supporting the earthy-looking roof. There was only one train. The disused one Alan got off. It was metallic and old looking, a rectangle tin rusting away. It was not like anything he had ever used before.
There was nothing on train and nothing on the platform apart from some wooden crates and several rusted barells. There were several ways off the platform. All down pitch black tunnels. Faint sunlight seemed to be coming from the tunnel which the train tracks lay upon. Alan didn't want to risk walking down an old train tunnel so he looked around for light switches or anything...
On one of the concrete metal pillars behind dust and cobweb was an emergency box. Alan used a wooden piece from a broken crate to remove the cobwebs. Inside was a small torch among other items. He took the small torch and decided to head down one of the corridors.
He slowly walked across the dimly lit platform aiming the flashlight down the corridor. The light was as if eaten up by the darkness. He couldn't tell what was down the corridor, or even what the walls were made of. The concrete just seemed to be eaten up by earth... if it was earth. Alan didn't want to think about that right now. He just wanted out.
All this time Mark had been screaming silently in the darkest corners of the platform, unseen and unheard. Screaming out to Alan.
As he approached the corridor he looked up at one of the metallic lights. It was hanging right above him. He couldn't see what the cord was connecting to above it. There was just darkness above. The flashlight revealed nothing. As he looked back down the corridor and pointed the flashlight he saw someone at the end of the corridor. Although the walls, roof, and floor were difficult to discern, he could see that thirty meters down the tunnel it split into two different directions. The figure disappeared out of sight. Alan gave quick chase down the tunnel, for a moment, until his feet started to make squishing sounds on the ground.
"Jaysus Christ" Alan whispered.
He stared forward and resolved himself not to inspect the floor, walls, or roof.
Breathing heavily, heart pumping, he slowly but surely powered step by step down the corridor. He had to get out. He had to know who or what that was down the tunnel.
As he reached near where the tunnel split in two the dark figure emerged. His beating heart began to panic. Alan began to slowly walk backwards while aiming the light at the thing to try and see what it was. The thing moved without walking, as if floating. It was a smoky shadow of flesh in tattered cloth; a wraith.
Fuck not panicking Alan thought as he took his eyes off the Wraith, spun around and began to run back towards the platform.
His feet made the most unholy squelching sound as he floored it out of the earthy corridor.
As he ran back out onto the dimly lit platform he foolishly jumped over one of the rusted barrels. He tripped as his foot got caught hitting the barrel. Stumbling he fell to the ground. The metallic hanging light in between him and the tunnel began to flicker as the wraith floated faster and faster towards him, before finally cutting out completely. The platform became almost deep dark. Alan just sat there on the concrete, as if resigned to his fate in this underground tomb. The smoky shadow of flesh in tattered cloth exited the tunnel onto the platform ready to claim its feast. As it floated under the metallic light, a bright flash of light suddenly discharged seemingly burning the wraith. The bright flashing light lit up the platform. A spark of bravery exploded in Alan as he jumped to his feet and lunged at the wraith pulling off its cloth, revealing it to the light. As it disintegrated into a mound of ash something ruby red fell from it. The brightness of the platform increased, which brought with it safe feelings.
Inside the pile of ash was a pendant with a red stone in the center. It looked important, maybe powerful, and so Alan pocketed it.
"Well done!" Mark said from the other end of the platform.
"Oh! It's you. Thank God. Where is... this?"
Mark began to approach Alan "Don't worry. Don't you remember? Ha ha ha" he laughed, playing it all off as nothing.
Alan strangely began to feel at ease. He was safe in the light.
"Did you see that?" Alan asked, feeling so accomplished over not only overcoming fear but also that thing which was now ash.
Mark non-nonchalantly explained "Yeah. It used to be a person. Just like us. Sometimes people get lost around the way stations in the underground. They wander around until they become like that. The underground is deep. Deep deep down there is more than that."
That wasn't Mark coolly walking over.... it didn't move like Mark, and why would Mark know all that stuff? Alan didn't what know to do. He looked around for anything, and suddenly noticed that the platform had been slowly getting dimmer and dimmer. In the corner he saw something. It was... Mark. The real Mark, but he had no mouth, and he was being consumed by darkness... screaming with his eyes.
"Don't you go anywhere"
"Hell Alan Marhall"
"Hello Alan Marhall" Anne repeated as she kissed him on the cheek "Good morning, I've made you some breakfast."
Alan came to. He was in his new bedroom in his new place. It was just a dream. The smell of breakfast wafted in from the kitchen. He didn't have time to mull over the dream, as he was soon occupied by receiving a blowjob.
After early morning animal frolics, the two had breakfast. Alan asked about Mark. Apparently he had already left early in the morning. There was no sign of him. Steve and MJ would come around shortly. Everyone had the day off today, so they planned to continue on from last nights festivities.
Someone knocked at the door.
"Bejazoot! Bejazoot! Bejazoot!" a familiar voice shouted.
Could it be??? Alan wondered as he shot off like a rocket from the kitchen stool and flew towards the door.
"Kyle!" Alan said with a smile on his face, before raising an eyebrow.
Kyle, the lead singer and saxophonist of their old band was wearing military fatigues, with an emblazoned German flag. A Saxophone quiver with his Saxophone "Deathwish" hung over his shoulder. None of that raised Alan's eyebrow though. Kyle was always an eccentric. Emblazoned in swastikas and totenkopf, standing next to Kyle, was a Nazi babe with a cute smile.
TBC...
@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Warrior Poet, & Lover
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