The Rabbit Hole

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 The air in the abandoned subway maintenance room was thick with the smell of rusted iron and damp limestone. Julian, a once promising architect who had spent a decade ‘waiting for the right investor’ while drowning in expensive scotch, woke to the rhythmic ticking of a pendulum.

He was strapped to a steel table, his bare feet hanging over the edge. The darkness was absolute until a single match flared. In the amber glow, a towering figure leaned over him. The face was a nightmare of matted brown fur and bulging glass eye.


"You’re late, Julian,"


The voice rasped, muffled by the heavy latex of the mask. A gloved hand held a vintage gold pocket watch in front of his eyes. The second hand didn't move; it had been soldered in place at twelve.


"Ten years late for the skyline you promised this city. Now, you’ve run out of time."


Julian tried to thrash, but the leather vitals held firm. The Rabbit reached into a velvet-lined kit and produced a scalpel that caught the candlelight like a sliver of ice. She didn't go for his throat. Instead, she moved to the foot of the table with the clinical precision of a surgeon.


"You spent your life running away from your potential,"


She whispered, her hot breath smelling of dried herbs and ozone.


“So I’m going to make sure you stay exactly where you belong. In the dirt."


The first incision was a vertical slit in his right heel. Julian’s scream was swallowed by the cavernous stone walls. She worked with terrifying focus, her oversized rabbit ears twitching slightly with every stroke. She didn't just cut; she calligraphed. The "E" was deep, severing the white cord of the Achilles tendon with a sickening pop.

As she moved to the "A," Julian’s vision began to grey out.


“Stay awake, you’ve slept through enough of your life already."


She hissed, tapping the frozen watch against his forehead. By the time she reached the final "R," the floor beneath the table was slick. She stepped back, admiring the jagged, crimson letters of her name carved into the back of his feet. A permanent anchor to the earth. She blew out the candle, leaving him in the crushing silence of the tunnel.


"Happy Easter, Julian, you finally arrived."


The darkness whispered. 

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