The walls were covered in ivy—plants with soft skin and skeletal bodies. Thorns. Fallen leaves on the ground and cracks in the walls; between the platforms, trees pierced through the ceiling.
The light had gone out, like everything else in the place. Fred walked along the platforms, passing every corner of the station. He found nothing. He let himself drop to the floor, wiped the sweat from his brow, and decided to leave. He climbed the station stairs until he emerged onto the street. He was met by an overcast sky, and on the horizon the orange-red sun was either setting or rising. He didn’t know which.
He lowered his gaze to the ground and saw grass—more ivy, creeping vines. It was as if the world had been overtaken by a gigantic flowerpot, covering everything with its roots. How had everything vanished? How could the world be different in an instant? He pushed the questions from his mind and kept shouting:
“Hey! Hello! What happened?!”
The wind blew, slamming against a metal trash container; that was the only answer. A solitary world. He crossed the street and saw a traffic light lying on the ground, wrapped in ivy, flicker briefly.
At least there was still some electricity, he thought. Fred kept searching for a trace of anything alive; all he found was an immense number of cars, perfectly parked along the sides of the street, except for the center.
As he walked among the cars, he felt his last shred of hope fade. He was finished. How would he get out of there? He didn’t even know if there was a way out. Where would he go? Where had everyone gone? Where the hell am I? he wondered. The scene on the road was as apocalyptic as it was surreal.
Something slid beneath the cars. He didn’t quite see it, but thought it might be a newspaper or a plastic bag. He abandoned that idea when he saw it again, darting under the cars; it seemed just as frightened as he was and screeched with an unsettling sound.
Half of its body, it seemed to him, was skeletal; the other half was covered in yellowish fur, its frame gaunt. It was a fox. Every growl made Fred’s skin crawl, forcing him to keep his eyes locked on the animal.
He began to back away, slowly. The fox followed, taking measured steps, advancing as if about to hunt its prey. An ordinary fox wouldn’t have unnerved him so much—but this one was not ordinary.
As it drew closer, Fred saw it in greater detail. Its eyes were completely black, its jaws never closed, fangs bared. Every two or three seconds, it twisted its face and neck.
Stop it. Stop.
Stay back, you damn dead animal.
Fred retreated until he hit a car, then redirected his steps between more vehicles. The animal didn’t stop and never took its furious gaze off him.
“Get away! Go to hell!” he shouted.
The animal didn’t respond. Its murderous instinct drowned out any trace of fear; it wanted only to keep advancing. Suddenly it leapt and slammed its head into Fred’s metal leg. He shook his leg hard until the animal went flying over the cars and landed on the other side of the street. It ran as if terrified and disappeared into a store.
The Marks flashed on the sign...
... "
--Continue reading in its original Castilian language at fictograma.com--
fictograma in LiteraturaESP @lemmy.world
The Strange Gentleman. Chapter 2
https://fictograma.com/d/1390-el-senor-extrano-capitulo-2Excerpt:
The Strange Gentleman. Chapter 2
The walls were covered in ivy—plants with soft skin and skeletal bodies. Thorns. Fallen leaves on the ground and cracks in the walls; between the platforms, trees pierced through the ceiling.
The light had gone out, like everything else in the place. Fred walked along the platforms, passing every corner of the station. He found nothing. He let himself drop to the floor, wiped the sweat from his brow, and decided to leave. He climbed the station stairs until he emerged onto the street. He was met by an overcast sky, and on the horizon the orange-red sun was either setting or rising. He didn’t know which.
He lowered his gaze to the ground and saw grass—more ivy, creeping vines. It was as if the world had been overtaken by a gigantic flowerpot, covering everything with its roots. How had everything vanished? How could the world be different in an instant? He pushed the questions from his mind and kept shouting:
“Hey! Hello! What happened?!”
The wind blew, slamming against a metal trash container; that was the only answer. A solitary world. He crossed the street and saw a traffic light lying on the ground, wrapped in ivy, flicker briefly.
At least there was still some electricity, he thought. Fred kept searching for a trace of anything alive; all he found was an immense number of cars, perfectly parked along the sides of the street, except for the center.
As he walked among the cars, he felt his last shred of hope fade. He was finished. How would he get out of there? He didn’t even know if there was a way out. Where would he go? Where had everyone gone? Where the hell am I? he wondered. The scene on the road was as apocalyptic as it was surreal.
Something slid beneath the cars. He didn’t quite see it, but thought it might be a newspaper or a plastic bag. He abandoned that idea when he saw it again, darting under the cars; it seemed just as frightened as he was and screeched with an unsettling sound.
Half of its body, it seemed to him, was skeletal; the other half was covered in yellowish fur, its frame gaunt. It was a fox. Every growl made Fred’s skin crawl, forcing him to keep his eyes locked on the animal.
He began to back away, slowly. The fox followed, taking measured steps, advancing as if about to hunt its prey. An ordinary fox wouldn’t have unnerved him so much—but this one was not ordinary.
As it drew closer, Fred saw it in greater detail. Its eyes were completely black, its jaws never closed, fangs bared. Every two or three seconds, it twisted its face and neck.
Stop it. Stop.
Stay back, you damn dead animal.
Fred retreated until he hit a car, then redirected his steps between more vehicles. The animal didn’t stop and never took its furious gaze off him.
“Get away! Go to hell!” he shouted.
The animal didn’t respond. Its murderous instinct drowned out any trace of fear; it wanted only to keep advancing. Suddenly it leapt and slammed its head into Fred’s metal leg. He shook his leg hard until the animal went flying over the cars and landed on the other side of the street. It ran as if terrified and disappeared into a store.
The Marks flashed on the sign...
... "
--Continue reading in its original Castilian language at fictograma.com--