The Storm
Warnings: Gore, death, spooky (read, horrorish)
Word count: 3651
AN: Well this is different for me. Enjoy? If you can enjoy something like this. Edited as I wrote, there may be some mistakes. It's late ok?
“Jack, what the fuck!” Naomi stormed past the broken escalator, curses spilling under her breath.
“Mimi, come back, it was just a joke.”
“You know how freaked I get.” She threw a sharp gesture toward the vacant tunnel yawning behind him. “We’re stuck down here for God knows how long, and you’re making creepy little noises. It’s dark as hell down there.”
The fluorescents buzzed overhead, one sputtering back to life every now and then, leaving darkness in its wake when it died over and over. Their voices bounced against the tiled walls, each echo swallowed by the tunnel’s black mouth.
Jack stood at the far end of the platform, arms wide in mock surrender. “Alright, alright.”
Naomi ignored him. She thumped down onto one of the rusted benches lining the wall, metal groaning under her weight, and turned her head away.
A few feet from Naomi, Christophe leaned over the edge of the platform, rocking on the balls of his feet.
“Find anything useful?”
A low chuckle came from his left. Startled, Christophe swayed too far forward, arms pinwheeling. Before he could tumble face-first into the tracks, a broad hand clamped around his waist and hauled him back.
“Lucky I was here,” the man said, steadying him with surprising strength. “You’d have had no face left if you fell in.”
The same chuckle followed, dry and amused, lingering a beat too long in the cavernous air. Christophe blinked up at his rescuer: a handsome, older man, his sideburns thick and unfashionably carved into mutton chops.
“Name’s John.”
“Get off me, old man!” Christophe shoved at John’s chest, but John didn’t budge. His grip stayed firm.
“What are you, some kind of freak?”
“Just trying to help.” John’s voice was steady, unnervingly calm. He smiled. Not warm, not mocking, just empty.
Christophe brushed off his chinos, still bristling. “I was fine. I can handle myself.” He pulled out his phone. “Typical. No service.”
“You won’t get any down here,” John said. “Not with that storm. That kind of weather kills all communications. Just have to wait it out.”
Naomi’s eyes flicked between the two men before she turned back on her brother. “Jack.”
“Whaaat?” Jack drawled, flicking another pebble into the tunnel. The faint clatter echoed too long before it finally faded.
“Will you stop that? It’s getting on my nerves.”
“Thought you were ignoring me.”
“I’m trying to. You’re making it difficult.”
The silence stretched after Naomi’s last words. The storm roared faintly above, rain hammering against the glass panels in the roof.
John broke it first. “You know,” he said, lowering himself onto one of the rusted benches, “nights like this go easier with stories. Helps pass the time. Helps… take your mind off things.”
Christophe snorted. “What is this, summer camp?”
But Jack’s grin was immediate, already mischievous. “Oh, I’ve got one.”
Naomi folded her arms, muttering. “Here we go.”
“Shut up, Mimi. Okay, this one time,” Jack said, dropping onto the ground in front of John like he was centre stage. “Aaaages ago, there was this guy. Super old, nobody knew how old, but he was. And he had this long, grey hair.”
“Jack, please. Nothing scary.”
“It’s not! Promise!” His grin said otherwise, eyes flashing with mischief.
Naomi groaned.
“Anyway, so this guy,” Jack went on, lowering his voice just enough to make it carry in the still air, “he lived down here. In the tunnels. Said he could hear the voice of God in the rails…”
“The voice of God?” John arched an eyebrow and leaned toward Jack. “Down here?”
“Yeah! He said he could hear it in the thrumming of the rails when the trains had passed through the tunnel.”
“What makes you think it’s God?” Naomi crossed her arms and fixed her brother with a death glare. “Why not the devil? Or ghosts? Or demons? Or just the fucking trains?”
Jack grinned, pleased he had her attention. “Because God’s scarier. That’s what he said, anyway. The Priest thought it was a holy voice, telling him the world up top was rotten with sinners, and that it was his job to fix it. Down here, he was chosen. Down here, he’d make them holy.”
Christophe snorted. “Yeah? And how exactly did he do that?”
Jack’s grin turned sly. “The legend says he nailed people to the walls and left them hanging there. Said the tunnels would drink their sins away every time the trains rolled past.”
Naomi pulled a face. “Christ, Jack, do you have to?”
“Oh, it gets better,” Jack said with a laugh. “People claimed that if you listened closely, you could still hear the ones he strung up. Not screaming with their throats — screaming in the metal. Like their voices got trapped in the steel forever.”
The words hung in the silence.
Overhead, a fluorescent sputtered violently, then burst with a sharp pop. Half the platform dropped into shadow. The smell of burnt plastic drifted through the stale air.
Naomi flinched hard, hugging her arms tighter. Christophe gave a shaky laugh. “Nice timing, huh?”
Jack’s grin faltered, just for a second. “See? Told you. He’s still down here. Listening.”
From the far bench, John smiled faintly in the dark.
Christophe yawned. “What a load of shit, man. Are you eight? Shit’s not scary at all.”
Naomi barked a laugh, nervous energy spilling out of her.
Jack scowled. “Oh yeah? Think you can do better?”
“Course I can,” Christophe said, shifting on the bench and stretching his legs out like he owned the place. “See, I don’t waste time with ghost stories. You want scary? Real scary? Try climbing into places you’re not supposed to be. Abandoned buildings, rooftops, tunnels like this.” He gestured lazily at the platform around them. “You never know if the floor’s gonna cave, or if someone’s waiting inside. That’s real fear. Real risk.”
Naomi rolled her eyes. “Or real stupid.”
Christophe grinned, flashing teeth. “Fortune favours the brave, sweetheart. I’ve been doing it for years. Crawling into locked places, balancing on ledges twenty stories up. And I’m still here.”
“Somehow I doubt it.” Naomi looked him up and down, taking in his spotless chinos and shiny leather shoes. She gestured dismissively. “I bet you’ve never even climbed a tree.”
The storm groaned against the glass roof above them, wind howling through the cracks, rain hammering a heartbeat on the panels.
Naomi hugged her arms tighter, eyes following Christophe as he pushed to his feet.
“Oh, how narrow your mind is, sweetheart,” he said, smug as ever. “I’ve been places you couldn’t even dream of.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and began to swagger along the platform. Naomi followed his progress with narrowed eyes, heart beating faster every time his foot landed too close to the edges lined with peeling yellow paint.
“I remember this one night,” Christophe continued, his voice carrying in the cavernous dark. “Abandoned hotel. Twelve stories high. I’d had a few drinks, and my mates dared me to climb out onto the fire escape. Rusted, bolts hanging loose, but I didn’t think twice. I walked the whole thing, handrail rattling under my weight. Any second it could’ve given way. Could’ve been dead right there with the snap of a rail.” He clapped his hands, the sound echoing round the tunnels, fading as it went.
He paused to listen, tilting his head, a smile curling. “But it didn’t. Held my weight. I made it back, heart in my throat but buzzing. That’s the thing, fear makes you feel alive, no? And me? I always come out on top.”
Naomi shifted uncomfortably, arms tightening around herself. She thought she saw John watching too, expression unreadable, like he’d heard this speech a hundred times before.
Christophe gave a mock bow, then sauntered back toward the group, smugness radiating. “So yeah, ghost stories don’t scare me. The only thing worth fearing is when you stop taking risks. That’s when you’re already dead.” He gave a pointed look to Jack who was now rolling his eyes.
“Impressive,” came John’s voice from the bench, half shrouded in darkness. His already imposing figure seemed larger in the fractured light. “You like risk?”
“Why do you care, old man? It’s not like you have anything interesting to say.” Christophe waved him off and swung onto the edge of the platform, legs dangling into the dark.
John didn’t answer. He only watched, hands folded on his knees, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting his lips.
Naomi hugged herself tighter, pulse rising. “For God’s sake, get off of there. You’ll break your neck.”
Christophe snorted. “Relax. Fortune favours the brave, remember?”
Naomi’s laugh burst out sharper than she meant, brittle with nerves. “Yeah, brave and stupid. I once…” She stopped, teeth clicking shut as the memory pressed against her throat.
Jack leaned forward eagerly. “Go on, Mimi. Let’s hear it.”
Naomi sucked in a rattling breath. “I once did something similar. It was a dare, some friends had said, ‘oh, go into the school, Mimi, it’ll be fun!’” She moved toward the broken escalator and stared at the storm raging just outside. “It was late. About five in the morning.”
“Why have I never heard this?” Jack exclaimed, scandalised.
“Because you would have ratted to our parents, idiot.”
“I would not!” Jack slapped a hand to his chest in feigned outrage.
Naomi shot him a flat look. “Do you want me to tell the story or not?”
“Sorry, sorry. Please continue, Daredevil.” He raised his hands in mock surrender.
Naomi exhaled slowly, the memory curling around her like smoke. “So I went in. Just the entrance hall, nothing special, but once the door shut behind me, God, it was pitch black. I couldn’t see a thing. And then I realised the handle was stuck. Wouldn’t budge. I pushed, I pulled, I slammed my shoulder against it. Nothing. Just silence and darkness pressing down around me. It felt like the whole building was closing in, crushing me in its walls.”
Her arms tightened around herself. “I was trapped there for nearly an hour. Felt like days. I clawed at the door until my hands bled. I thought I was gonna die in there, just… locked in a place I knew but didn’t recognise. When I finally got out, I swore I’d never let myself get trapped like that again.”
The fluorescent overhead flickered twice, then steadied. Naomi flinched and crossed her arms tighter.
Jack snorted, trying to break the tension. “See? I would’ve told Mum and Dad. You’re welcome.”
Naomi didn’t answer. She kept staring at the escalator, jaw tight.
John released a deep sigh. “You must have been terrified, things like that don’t leave easily.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Naomi turned back to the group and reclaimed her seat, folding her arms tight across her chest.
For a moment, nobody spoke. The storm rattled the roof, rain hissing through the cracks like static.
Then John leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I know what that’s like. Being stuck. Thinking you won’t make it out.” His voice was low, deliberate. “Happened to me once. Years ago. A mine collapse.”
Jack raised his brows. “A mine? Seriously? I didn’t think those were still a thing.”
John nodded slowly. “I was down there on a job, just me and two others. Rocks gave way without warning. We were buried alive in the dark.” He paused, his gaze drifting to the tunnel as though he could still see it. “The air was thick with dust. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. We clawed at the rubble until our nails split. Hours passed. One of my men suffocated beside me. The other broke his leg and… well, he didn’t last long after.”
Naomi’s throat tightened. “But you…”
“I walked out.” John’s hollow smile returned. “Not sure how. I dug and dug until the light broke through. People told me I should’ve been dead, that I was lucky. But the truth is…” He leaned back into the shadow, voice barely above the hum of the fluorescents. “Some people get taken. Some people walk out. That’s just the way of things.”
The silence that followed was heavier than the storm.
“Like fuck you survived a mine collapse.” Christophe snorted, voice dripping with disbelief. “You’d have scars, be all messed up or something.”
John’s gaze slid toward him, calm and unreadable. “Who says I don’t?”
Christophe hesitated, then puffed up again, waving a hand. “Yeah, right. Whatever. I’ve done worse.”
He pushed off the bench, swaggering back toward the edge of the platform. “At least I don’t sit around spinning ghost stories. I take risks. That’s what living is.”
Naomi’s stomach turned as she watched him swing himself onto the lip, legs dangling into the dark. “Hey, don’t do that,” she snapped, voice thinner than she meant.
He only leaned back on his palms, grinning. “What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? The tracks reach up and grab me?”
The fluorescent above him flickered, buzzing hard. Naomi’s breath caught-
Christophe’s grin faltered. His weight shifted. His body tipped forward. Hands scrambled at empty air.
Then came the crack. Sharp. Wet. Bone against steel.
The sound ricocheted through the tunnel until it felt like it came from everywhere at once.
Naomi clapped both hands to her mouth, a strangled sound escaping. She couldn’t even call his name. She didn’t know it.
Jack had gone still, eyes wide. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Holy shit, is he…”
John didn’t move. His face unreadable, half lost to shadow.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-” Naomi’s voice cracked as tears streamed down her face. She staggered back from the platform, choking on air.
Jack ran to her, grabbing her shoulders, pulling her tight against his chest. “It’s okay, Mimi. It’ll be okay,” he murmured, words tumbling over themselves, as if saying them fast enough could make them true.
Naomi shook her head violently, clinging to him, breath hitching. “I watched him. I- I watched him.”
“I know. I know.” Jack pressed his chin to the top of her head, one hand stroking her hair, like he could shield her from what she’d just seen. “We’ll get through this. We just… we just have to hold on till the storm passes then we can get some help ok.”
From the bench, John finally rose to his feet. His shadow stretched long across the tiles, his voice steady. “He’s gone. Nothing to be done now. Best thing is to rest. Save your strength.”
Naomi lifted her tear-streaked face, staring at him in disbelief. “Rest? Are you insane?”
John’s eyes lingered on her, unreadable. “You can’t fight the dark all night. It’ll take you faster than the tracks will.”
“I think he’s right, Mimi. There’s not a lot we can do for…” Jack’s voice cracked; he shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t even know his name.”
Naomi pressed her face harder against his chest, her sobs muffled by his jacket.
“We can’t do anything for him now,” Jack whispered, rocking her gently. “May as well try and sleep.”
Her body shuddered against his, but the edge of panic dulled. She managed to pull in one jagged breath, then another. “O…k,” she croaked. “We… I’ll try.”
Jack smoothed her hair, his lips close to her ear. “That’s my girl. Just close your eyes. I’ll be right here.”
They sank down together onto the rusted bench, Naomi curling into his side. Her eyes burned from crying, but exhaustion pressed heavy on her bones.
Somewhere above, the storm rumbled on. The fluorescents buzzed, dimmer now, like the station itself was holding its breath.
To the left of them, John lowered himself back onto his seat, his silhouette still and watchful.
Naomi tried to focus on Jack’s warmth beside her, on the rhythm of his breathing. But even as her eyelids drooped, she couldn’t shake the image of the nameless man sprawled on the tracks, and the sickening crack that still echoed in her ears.
The sleep wasn’t restful. Naomi felt herself getting colder as the hours wore on and the night grew thin. Every creak of the station made her flinch. She could feel it, the sensation of being watched, but she didn’t dare open her eyes. If she didn’t look, maybe it couldn’t see her either.
At some point she must have drifted deeper, because when she stirred again the platform was brighter, the fluorescents humming faintly back to life. Her head throbbed, her mouth dry.
Then she heard it.
A wet, rhythmic sound. Squelch. Tear. Pull.
Naomi’s eyes flew open.
Jack wasn’t beside her.
Her gaze darted wildly until it snagged on the far wall across the tracks. For a moment her brain refused to make sense of what she was seeing.
Jack was there. On the wall. His body spread wide, arms held aloft as if nailed through. His head lolled to one side, blood spilling in sluggish streams down the tiles.
The squelching came from his shoulders, where the flesh seemed torn, pulled by something invisible, pinning him tighter with every sickening tug.
Naomi’s scream ripped through the empty station.
Jack’s head lifted weakly, his eyes finding hers. His mouth opened, choked words barely audible across the gap.
“Mimi… run.”
Naomi’s scream broke into ragged sobs as Jack’s head sagged forward again. She lurched to her feet, stumbling across the platform.
“Jack! Jack, hold on!”
Her shoes scraped against the tiles, slipping on grit. She fell hard to her knees, palms stinging, but she scrambled onward, wild with panic.
Halfway across she tripped, sprawling forward. Her body slid to the very lip of the platform, and her head tipped over the edge.
For a heartbeat she forgot Jack.
Christophe’s body lay sprawled below, but it wasn’t the same as before. His skin had gone slack, mottled, wrong. Patches of him seemed already sinking into decay, the stink of rot wafting up. His eyes were open, milky, staring at nothing.
Naomi gagged, tearing her gaze away, only for a pair of hands to seize her shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” John’s voice rumbled behind her, calm and steady. He hauled her upright in a single motion. She sagged against him in relief for half a breath…
Then realised he wasn’t letting go.
“Jack!” she screamed, thrashing in his grip. But John only pinned her tighter, his arms like iron bars locking her in place.
Across the tracks, Jack writhed weakly, blood smearing down the tiles. His mouth opened in a final silent plea, then his body went slack, arms splayed wide.
Naomi bucked against John’s chest, sobbing, trying to wrench free. He didn’t force her to look, but he didn’t let her look away either. She was trapped in the crook of his arm, staring straight ahead as her brother died, powerless to turn her head.
When it was over, John murmured against her hair, almost kindly:
“Some things you can’t save.”
Naomi sagged in John’s arms, numb, broken, her mind an empty howl. She couldn’t do anything but stare across the tracks at her brother’s lifeless body, his blood still glistening black on the tiles.
John slowly uncoiled his grip, releasing her. She crumpled to the platform, her hands limp on the cold concrete.
Above them, the storm was lifting. Pale light seeped through the cracked panes of the roof, a fragile promise of morning. The fluorescents guttered once, then steadied, buzzing softly like tired bees.
John rose to his full height behind her. The new light caught on him, stretching his shadow across the tiles until it swallowed her whole.
Naomi blinked through her tears, breath catching. Dawn. The world was waking up above them. Maybe she still had a chance. Maybe she could run, get out, escape this nightmare before it swallowed her too.
Her eyes flicked toward the broken escalator.
It sat at the far end of the platform, silent, waiting. She knew she only had one chance to get out of here. She could get out, get help, tell someone. One chance.
Naomi shakily turned her gaze away from the horror before her and looked at John. He stood, watching her, face impassive.
“It’s okay, girl,” he said softly. “Don’t you worry.”
Naomi rose to her feet on trembling legs. She felt very much like prey.
Step by step, she backed away, never turning her back on him. John matched her pace, slow and steady, his boots clicking on the tiles. Every movement of his loomed larger in her mind, his silence pressing against her like a hand at her spine.
By the time she reached the escalator, her chest was heaving, her resolve splintering. She hesitated only a second, then spun and bolted up the unmoving steps.
The machine roared awake beneath her, the sudden mechanical growl drowning out her scream. The steps shuddered, grinding downward. She clawed upward, scrambling, but the motion dragged her back, dragging her down.
“No - no, no, no!” Naomi wailed, hauling herself higher, fingernails splitting against the grooved metal. She could see the light of dawn above, brighter with every heartbeat.
The machine groaned louder. Her foot slipped. The escalator seized its chance. The steps shunted her backward, faster and faster, until she slammed into the base.
There was a horrible grinding shriek as the teeth caught her. The mechanism chewed her ankle, then her leg, dragging her into its steel jaws. She screamed, kicking, clawing at the railing, but the machine only pulled harder.
In seconds, she was gone. The escalator shuddered once more, then fell silent, lifeless again, her blood soaking the lowest steps.
John arrived at the base, his shadow spilling long across her broken form. For a moment he simply stood there, watching.
Then, without a word, he stepped over Naomi’s body and onto the frozen escalator. He climbed upward, slow and measured, until the dawn swallowed him whole.
Taglist: @ace-malarky
