Tenby Tunnel

I have to say the last 12 months have flown by and I am, as you know, back for my second year of Creative Writing.  I have already posted my third week assignment "Oblivion" so I will rewind to week one and "Picture Prompt" flash fiction of 500 words or less.  Take certain elements from a picture together with descriptive words to develop a short story.  One of the things I most enjoy about writing flash fiction is that I create them without any particular strategy in mind.  I literally watch it unravel beneath my fingertips.  

TENBY TUNNEL

Michael escaped through the gargantuan glass doors, unceremoniously spilling the deluge of the city’s proficient upon the tired grey stone, groaning under the haze of the setting sun.  Unregimented footfalls reverberated within the lofty structures with the carelessness of an undisciplined march.  Michael lifted his collar melting into the throng of the masses as they surged ahead.  Inconspicuous.  Determined.  Alone.

Whilst the City was fast-paced, almost chaotic, Michael remained serene, tranquil.  He greedily inhaled the aromas from the nearby restaurants and brasseries and his stomach moaned appreciatively.  With head bowed and hands thrust deep into his pockets he disappeared, unnoticed, into the stench of the grime-ridden underground.

The light in the toilets flickered intermittently and just for a moment Michael gazed, motionless, at his reflection in the tarnished mirror above the chipped ceramic bowl.  He had done it.  Taking his crimson stained hands from deep within his pocket he vigorously rubbed soap into his tainted skin, the hot water taking the burnt orange residue into the drainage below.  His cheeks flushed and his lips displayed the semblance of a satisfied smile.

As Michael quickly changed his clothing, removing all traces of any remaining bloodstain, the final rays of the evening light bounced rhythmically off the soiled tiles beneath his feet.  Removing the bloody hunting knife from the safety of his inside pocket, Michael proceeded to meticulously parcel the knife within the clothing he had removed.  As Michael left the camouflage of the underground, parcel securely underneath his arm, he was greeted by the sky dyed a pomegranate pink.  The heaviness of the earlier surge had lightened.

“May there always be sunshine, may there always be blue skies” Michael mused.  Turning toward Tenby Tunnel, the vagrants milling around the brazier even though the temperatures were far from cool, the plume of flame licking at the musty surround.  Michael approached the cluster of the cities forgotten, their deprivation etched in each hard line on their aged faces and swiftly dropped his parcel into the brazier causing the hungry flames to devour, like a great famished beast, belching out plummets of black smoke.  He walked away leaving their angry protests lingering in the still air.

Michael gazed over to the Tenby River, the water lay flat, silent, as was his emotions, as if one were a reflection of the other. The fading orbs of light recoiled and eventually melted into the water, causing the river to appear like a huge pool of deep red.  Michael thought of Harry.

Harry’s blood didn't gush in a constant flow, but in sync with the beating of his heart. At first it came dense and strong, flowing through his fingers as he clutched his ripped flesh. Michael looked on, fascinated, watching the blood ooze over his hand, the thick fluid finding its own direction and staining the clothing beneath. After just moments the blood was still leaving his rapidly paling flesh, but his pulses were slower, weaker. Michael didn’t leave until Harry had taken his last breath and his heart had given its final beat.  Only then did Michael walk away.

Hayley Mars