A tunnel. I was so disappointed. I was expecting ... I don't even know what I was expecting. But I wasn't expecting a tunnel. It had walls made of brick and a low roof of pure concrete. The passageway was lit by gas lamps, like a coal mine or something. Because of the low roof I had to bend over a little to fit. This made my back hurt, especially with my sore ankle. I had no idea how long had passed since I woke up, but it felt like an eternity. I was exhausted, hungry and longing for sunlight and fresh air. I couldn't remember where I came from, but I know it was sunny and fresh, or why would I be suffering this much?
I advanced down the tunnel, keeping a hand running along the side of the wall to make sure I was going the right way in the darker areas. My natural instinct was to keep left and, if possible, go up. But, alas, the floor only sloped down at such a small angle I didn't realise I had been heading downwards. At the next fork in the road, about thirty meters away I stopped to rest and have a think. How am I gonna get food?. It was another good question. I peered down the two corridors of the fork.
The one on the right: Non-poisonous berries. The left: Darkness.
I could identify the berry as non-poisonous, like how I knew my name, I just sort of did. I knew how to survive. It was an instinct, as if I'd lived in nature my whole life. Naturally, I'd go left, but on this one occasion I went right, for the berries.
Mistake one.
That's when I heard the howling.
After plucking every berry off the bush and stuffing them in my pocket, I heard a blood-curdling howl. To say I was scared was an understatement. I was mortified. So I hobbled as fast as possible on my sprained ankle away from the noise and up the other corridor. Only when it stopped could I stop and take a break. I was panting heavily and felt like I was gonna pass out. Fighting the urge to, I ate a couple of berries and took a deep breath. I felt a little better.
After about five minutes? I began to slowly make my way up the passage. Not expecting it but I walked past some skeletons, a few looking freshly dead. Their dead eyes looking up at me, their hollow cheeks and how they smelt! Goodness it was bad. It smelled like death surprisingly enough. I stopped to look at them and wonder how they died. One had a large open stab wound in his shoulder that was infected and rotting. It looked like a knife had gone through it. The next one was headless. Obvious way of death here. Some of the older skeletons were brittle and bare, skinny and small. I touched one's rib. It crumpled to dust in my hand. It was horrible.
And so I moved on. My tear and grime stained face probably looked the most unflattering it ever has. Seeing those skeletons, it really hit me hard. I realised my fear of death and accepted the fact that I was done. The newer ones looked fit and healthy, meaning whatever is out there could be coming to get me. I began panicking and this lead to crying. I just curled up in a tight ball on the floor where I was stood and cried hard. I couldn't do this anymore.