(Page 1 of 2) The Tunnels by Mark BothSUMMARY: This is my entry for the November 2009 Flash Fiction Contest, Theme: "Hunger". Hunger. The word echoes soundlessly through the tunnels and no matter where you run, you can't escape the lipless Whispers that calls to you. Hunger, eat. Many obey the Whispers and it quiets, for a while, content and smug of its hold of the people, if that's what they still are. There are some of us, though, who were thrown into the Tunnels later in life when we had had time to develop morals and with our petty thoughts we can ignore the voice, for a time.
Why do I call morals petty? You may say they're the thing that differentiates us from animals and I would say that you are speaking the truth for to survive the Tunnels, you can't be human, you must be an animal, a wild beast with no emotions nor regret, one that can, without hesitation obey the voices in the tunnel; hunt, kill, eat.
I am one of the unlucky ones it seems, for I was thrown into the Tunnels at a later age than the real monsters down here. I was sentenced here for my crime, thievery, of a loaf of bread I believe. The city had only one punishment at the time for any crime, the tunnels and I, like many before, and many more after, was brought to one of the gaping holes that served as entrances to the Tunnels.
Even the entrance to the Tunnels was an abomination of nature; a great heaving sore in the earth it was, one that hungrily engulf my person as I was swallowed by its gaping maw.
For the first few days there was only the eerie silence of nothingness around each bend of the Tunnels for although a multitude of animals, humans and, things inhabited the murky depths, the winding shape of the Tunnels halted most noise in its tracks. But not the Whispers.
At first the Whispers were nothing more than a gust of wind that seemed to sing through the Tunnels, quiet and only on the edge of conscious. But as time wore on, the Whispers grew, they were everywhere and constantly moaning and crying their commands, eat, kill, and it was as if the Tunnels themselves took it upon themselves to stirp every last bit of morality from me.
Somehow, I manage to fight the Whispers, but that doesn't make them go away, it on gives them time to brood and grow. Sometimes, I consider pledging myself to the maniacal, bodiless sound that haunt the Tunnels, but I can't, my consciousness denies it.
The Things, though, they serve the Whispers, wholeheartedly and without question. The Things, I think they were human once, people who were just not born right and were thrown down here. The people on the
surface, they said they were sent away to a better place, but I think they were lying; they sent them to hell.
I've seen a Thing once, I think. The darkness in the Tunnels is almost absolute and the twisting corridors obscure what little light shone through, but I do know that something else was in the Tunnels with me, something inhuman, something hungry. The Whispers screamed at me, Hunt! Kill! Eat! They bellowed, but I shut them away and instead ran.
Since then I have not seen any other living thing, but I know they're down here, the Things.
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