I haven’t visited Friday Fictioneers for a while…for longer than I can remember ever not visiting. Here is my effort. Many thanks to Rochelle.


The car abandoned, we charge to the underpass where it’s safe.

“No!” Neil drags me farther to a manhole. I look from him to the steel, consider my various neuroses, and shake my head.

He yanks up the cover and gestures for me to go down.

I peer into darkness; the roaring winds like an oncoming locomotive, send me downwards.

He switches his cell to flashlight. I gasp air. He chuckles.

We’re safe. The animal roars above, a demon, aching for dessert.

He flicks his screen. “Make it with You” plays, a song he despises, but I love.

Comfort. Love.



Sascha Darlington

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