riverrun Vol. 47

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was no sense to be found. The only way forward was to sink deeper into the city.
There was no light to be found; their way was lit by the dim light of a pen flashlight
he fished from his coat pocket and a lighter commandeered from a disgruntled
chain-smoker. They did not notice the smell immediately; at the entrance
it was faint and fleeting, greeting one’s nostrils for but a moment before
fluttering off with the wind, making one think they had imagined it. As they drew
deeper, he knew he had not imagined it. The concrete had morphed into something
else. He could feel it scrape against his hand, and his feet sinking into it,
and the sound it made as it was trampled by four sets of trembling feet.
Splish splash, splash splish—the sound of flesh foaming to their ankles.
Drip drop, drop drip—the cadence of blood falling to the floor.
A cry for help, a plea for salvation—the sound of discord.
The chain-smoker was the first to die. When the concrete turned to flesh, he was
the first to notice; the first to retreat towards the entrance. When the pipes
turned to veins, he let out a harrowing cry.
He was a fool, the old man lamented. They had been walking for hours through
that labyrinth. There was no return.
He was swallowed by the city. They hardly noticed he disappeared until they
couldn’t detect the aroma of his cigarettes in the air. They found one on the
ground not so far away.
There was no telling if the flesh belonged to him, so they said a short prayer and
left him. None particularly cared for him—he had defiled her.
The family-man was the second to die—he had too much to live for. The other two
men could tell he did not truly care for his city. He was just in it for the pay. He
wanted to abandon her—to let her bleed down there. Alone. They tried to reason
with the man. He couldn’t be reasoned with. He found his way off the side of the
stairs, gently bouncing from side to side as he raced them to the bottom, guiding
them with a final curt curse.
The walls began to pulsate beneath their fingertips, beckoning them to its heart.
Eyes emerged from the cracks; arms sprouted to lift them from their tired feet;
the city was merciful; the city was considerate; the city was grateful they had
come all this way. They could hear the soft drum of an intoxicating heartbeat and
the hymn of shallow breaths—they could feel it glide across their cheeks.
Below them, they could spot rays of light pooling on the skeletal stairs. The dark,
harrowing space was now lined with hundreds of picture windows, all allowing
them to gaze out into the vast expanse surrounding them, as they continued to
spiral down and down and down towards their anxious host. Mountains of red