The beam of your flashlight cuts the dark. Just that.
A circle of light on wet concrete. Drip. Drip. The only sound.
You take a step. Heavy boot crunch on loose gravel.
Then, an echo.
Crunch.
But it’s wrong. Not a reply, but an… an announcement.
You freeze. The air, thick with mold and forgotten time, stills with you.
Silence.
You wait. Heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drum in the deep nothing.
You have to be sure.
Slowly, you lift your foot. Place it down. Softly.
Tap.
And there, a heartbeat later, from the crushing dark ahead…
Tap.
It’s not an echo. It’s a promise.
You run. Your feet pound the ground, a desperate rhythm of escape.
And the tunnel answers, not with the sound you just made, but the one you’re about to.
A frantic, terrifying percussion of your own future self, fleeing from something you haven’t seen yet.
The sound is ahead of you. It’s leading you.
You are following your own ghost.
This Poetry piece was created by AI, using predefined presets and themes. All content is fictional, and any resemblance to real events, people, or organizations is purely coincidental. It is intended solely for creative and illustrative purposes.