Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 17

This week's photo is an abandoned subway station - City Hall Station, in New York. It was built as a stop in the New York City Subway System in 1904, but closed in 1949 because the station wasn't very busy and could no longer accommodate larger subway cars.

This photo was taken by John Paul Palescandolo & Eric Kazmirek, and it was featured, along with many others of the abandoned subway, in an article in the UK's Daily Mail in 2012.

Being that I tend to write dark, this gave me the perfect setting. Interested to see what you make of it.

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How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

Paranoid 

When I reached the platform it was empty; the only sound that of my rushed footsteps echoing off the underground walls.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked round, frantic for company. The platform veered off to the left and I hurried along in the hope of finding another soul – but there was no one.

I tried to take steady breaths and calm myself while my ears scanned for any sound that might signify the imminent arrival of a train. The display boards were switched off giving me no indication of when that might be.

My over stretched ears were telling my brain something it didn’t want to hear: that the footsteps I’d imagined behind me since leaving the office and making my way to the station, were not actually imaginary; that they were steadily coming closer, one by one down the long flight of steps to the platform.

My eyes searched for a place to disappear into: an inset in the wall, a corner behind the power box at the end of the platform – even a bench to crouch behind, but there was nothing. I stepped back, hugging the wall and stepping quietly along to the corner. I could only hope they didn’t come round the curve in the platform.

I felt open, exposed, and vulnerable; the epitome of a woman alone at night.

My mind kept running scenarios of being attacked. I imagined running to the edge of the platform and flinging myself off - rather electrocuted on the lines than taken by force.

The footsteps had arrived on the platform. They were light, tentative, clearly looking for me. I wanted to shut my eyes, but my brain wouldn’t let me. I had to know, had to be sure. I looked out at the tiny section of platform I could see and waited.

But nothing; the footsteps had faded.

My ears kept searching for any sound or scrape, but only the echo of the station came back: the air moving through the tunnels, the background rustle of anything from paper, to mice, to the traffic above – no indication of another person on the platform.

I stayed where I was, frozen to the spot for as long as it took me to realise I was holding my breath. I let it out carefully not wanting to attract any attention, certain my potential assailant was still there biding their time.

My eyes traced the hands on my watch as the seconds stretched out to minutes, as I silently pleaded for two headlights to appear in the tunnel.

I jumped at the sound of sonic shots running through the rails as a train approached. The air stirred but I dared not move. I wanted to remain hidden until the last possible moment.

The train pulled in, bright and light, but mostly unoccupied at this late hour. When the doors slid open I made a dash for it, leaping in, my eyes darting left expecting to see someone coming at me. But no one did, because there was no one there. The platform was empty.

A frown crossed my face as the doors slid shut and I searched the station from end to end as the train moved off, but the truth was I’d been alone the entire time.

I leaned back against the wall of the train and sighed my relief, until a gentle cough reached me. I glanced up to find eyes staring at me from the other end of the carriage belonging to a lone man.

He smiled.

My stomach clenched.