The Tunnel.

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Jake Brodie-Stedman

 

The Tunnel

     There staring back at him from the shiny stainless steel cubicle wall was a image of an old weathered man. Well at least this is what Tate thought what it was. He strained his eyes in the dingy toilet to try to make out who it was. He couldn’t make out if it was some youth’s graffiti work but then he realised some familiar marks. A scar on his left cheek, a slightly offset left ear and a pair of large bushy eyebrows coupled with a set of small pin like eyes, altogether a rather strange combination. At first, he did not believe it but the more he gazed the more it dawned on him. It was him. Frank Tate.

    Frank was astonished why was he looking like this. He knew he was getting on abit but he was pretty sure he didn’t look this bad last time he had the courage to look in a mirror. He started to think to him self that his image must just be distorted in the metal he kept think this trying to convince himself until he could here himself muttering it to him self under his breath. He started to speak louder and loader and suddenly he got a nasty shock he could here himself saying the 4 familiar words “Terribilis est locus iste”. He quickly exited the dark cubicle and felt his face searching for the wrinkles he had seen in the reflection. He had now had enough sure that this be a dream, a sick joke maybe.

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    He ran up the train scanning for any sign of life but to no avail. He carried on running getting angrier and angrier he wanted all this to end. It was probably the second time Frank had ever been truly terrified second only to the first time he had ever killed for money. He arrived at another set of toilets at the end of the carriage, both of them empty. He opened the glass door separating the carriages manually as the electric mechanism seemed to of failed. This time the window was closed so he swiftly carried on ...

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