When Streets Became Mine
The streets were deserted; only the flickering of a single street lamp cast its pale light across the cracked tarmac. My footsteps echoed unnaturally loudly between the walls of the houses, whose windows stared into the darkness like blind eyes. A cold wind swept leaves and scraps of paper before me, and every rustle made my heart beat faster. I could no longer remember how I’d got here, only that I was alone and the silence was almost suffocating me.
My hands trembled as I touched the rusty door handle of a building. The metal felt as though it were gripping my hand, and I pulled it back hastily. Somewhere in the distance, a dull thud rang out, like an echo from another world. I pressed my back against the wall, felt its rough surface and tried to control my breathing. But the longer I listened, the more the city itself seemed to come alive, with voices I couldn’t understand and shadows following me.
I wanted to scream, but my throat was dry, as if the night had robbed me of all speech. All that remained was the fear that gripped me tightly and forced me to keep going, deeper into the heart of this ghostly city.
