Run

The woman is leading. Holding onto the other’s hand is a challenge, it being slippery and hard to see in the half-light. She cannot leave them behind, she needs him as much as they need her, and their dead weight is, in a way, comforting.

The underground they run through is ungrounded, unreal in its nature. The whole world feels this way; the universe is outside of its home. Dancing between cracks is difficult in the dark with the mosslight the only light worth using.

(THE OTHER IS SLOWING HER DOWN, WHY ARE THEY HERE?

The Other will be needed, in the end. She will be needed as well, when they reach the centre of their world and enter it to the sound of trumpets.

But then is not now.)

She pulls him long and they feel rats swarm around them, not touching but close enough to hear and, just about, to see. The other gasps, reaching out for them with his free hand. The woman pulls him away and deeper, down into the corridors of the old world below.

They pass by workers, faces frozen in surprise by the sight of those to running by, hand in hand, rats flowing endless after them.

The other tries to stop, tries to stay, the woman pulls him deeper, passing by the mosslight and into a true darkness. The rats stay behind, and wait.