Prompt #28

I see endless corridors that were musty from the day they were made.  How did anyone find refuge in a place so desolate and so cold?  Fort Knox is famous enough to be glorified on the front of postcards, but the postcards don’t give credit where credit is due.  If the tourist chose a chilly autumn evening, he would see what I see.

The tall and thin windows on the ground level are too small to escape out of, and he would feel the tightening grasp of claustrophobia.  It would sit like a weight on his chest, and close its icy fingers around his neck.  A few deep breaths would help him move on, but the trapped feeling is never far behind.

He might seek comfort from the walls that seem so strong, and lean against one.  But he would jump away in a moment, somehow the cold stones are always wet.  Wet makes cold infectious, and the feeling of uneasiness rises. 

He finds a staircase and climbs it two steps at a time, to the roof of the fort.  He is going up to catch a breath of fresh air, but the roof only exposes him to the strong winds.  Looking down at the ever changing river, a sense of dizziness forces its way up his throat.  Back down the steps he would hurry, missing the ground floor and going much farther down.

Beneath the earth he is buried under stones, dirt, and the work of men’s hands.  Caves are dark, and the lowest level of this structure is little different.  How do you explain a darkness that causes utter blindness to someone who has never experienced it?  After leaving the bottom of the stairway he would go looking for an exit, but the father he goes, the more complete the darkness is.  People came down here to live, but any life down here would only have been surviving.  He would stumble with one hand in front of him, trying to find his way back to the stairs, back to light.  He would crash into stone walls that appear out of nowhere, indiscernible in the consummate shadow. 

Finally, a stairway would be found, and he would rush up towards air that is not dark and stale.  He would break out and find himself outside the walls of the fort, he had wandered far while underground.  It’s dark by now, with a chill wind picking up.  He would tighten his jacket and walk back to his car.  The visit is over, and the postcard lied.