Stepping off the train and onto the subway platform, Cynthia felt the doors whoosh shut behind her, the rush of warm air ruffling her skirt. She didn't pay it much mind though; Cynthia was too giddy with excitement, anticipating the evening ahead of her.
The subway was brightly lit; the air was hot and humid, perfumed heavily with the sweat of a hundred different people. They were crammed into every space and inch, the multicolor of their clothing made them seem like a flock of exotic birds in an urban jungle.
The heat made Cynthia feel a little lightheaded and soon her lungs cried out with the need for fresh air. She began to push her way through the dense crowd of incoming and outgoing passengers; business people in dark, solemn suits going home for the night after a hard day's work and young party goers like Cynthia, all dressed for a night out. There were a couple of train guards trying to sort out the flow of traffic. Cynthia smiled; good luck to them. The Friday night crowds always teetered near the brink of chaos.
Skipping over a greasy hotdog wrapper on the ground, Cynthia dodged around an old man who was moving too slowly for her liking. He frowned and grumbled something like "young people these days." Cynthia turned and flashed him a disarming smile "S'cuze me, grandpa." She cooed sweetly, making for the Lynch street exit.
Once outside, Cynthia took a deep breath of cool night air. She could hear the muffled buzz of the subway beneath. She had always liked how full of life it was on Fridays and it made her smile as she checked her watch. 8:30 PM it read. Cynthia let her smile grow wider.
The night was still young, after all…
Cynthia's eyes opened a fraction and she immediately squeezed them shut again as a blinding pain sent lighting bolts shooting around her skull. "Ugh… Stupid hangover" she mumbled groggily as cautiously opened her eyes again, this time wary of the pain it might bring. Her hangover theory quickly vanished as her eyes focused.
She was lying not in her own comfortable bed but face down on cold, stone-grey concrete. Cynthia pulled herself into a sitting position and gazed wildly around at her surroundings. There were ticket booths, the glass caked in dirt and grime. The ceiling was damp and invested with spider webs. Cynthia figured she was back in the subway, but it was no longer full of life, with people bustling around in every direction. It was dark and foreboding. The elevators lay unmoving and rust spots erupted along vents like acne. Emergency lighting provided Cynthia with partial visibility in the gloom. The ghostly white glow cast ominous looking shadows across the walls and floor.
Cynthia shivered. The air was almost thick with cold, icy tendrils goose-pimpled her skin and bled through her clothing to chill her further.
Glancing down at her watch, Cynthia was shocked to find it read 3:00 AM. Exactly how long she had been unconscious, she didn't know. She wasn't even sure when and how she had gotten down there. Continuing to stare at the watch face, Cynthia suddenly became aware of a bead of moisture rolling down the side of her face. Before she could investigate, the bead fell in a dark droplet, spattering onto her watch. Gazing numbly at the scarlet splash, Cynthia realized it was blood and raised a trembling hand to her face, pressing her fingers to her left temple. She winced at the stinging pain and her fingers came away wet with blood. There was a deep gash stretching from her temple to her eyebrow, the skin torn and bloodied.
"God…" Cynthia whispered aloud. She must have stumbled drunk into the subway, perhaps fallen down a flight of stairs and hit her head. She groaned in slight embarrassment. It was not a story she would be relaying to her friends.
A sudden noise reached her ears and she froze, breath catching in her throat. It was the raspy scraping sound of something metallic being dragged across the floor.
Something or someone was coming.
Cynthia whimpered, scared to death. What kind of a normal person would be walking around the subway at 3:00 AM with a heavy metallic object?
She had no intention of being the next victim of some homicidal maniac and quickly pulled herself into a dark corner, as far away from the light as possible. The corner was damp and smelt so strongly of mold Cynthia had to hold her breath to keep from gagging. As the sound drew closer she pulled her knees up to her chest. Dampness seeped into the fabric of her skirt but she was too terrified to notice. Cynthia almost stopped breathing when a shadow fell across the light outside her hiding place. As she was praying they wouldn't find her, she noticed several dark splashes on the ground. Cynthia's heart sank as she realized it was her own blood and it lead directly into her hiding place…
The silhouette of a person rounded the corner and paused before her. Cynthia could just make out two piercing green orbs staring at her, unblinking.
And with that, she closed her eyes…
So… This was actually a story I wrote for English. It got a B. Man, I was angry, cos it fit the criteria. ROAR!