The Darkness of My Soul

by David Ferrell


It was black. The darkness closed around him, its cold, wet fingers reaching in through every pore.

Consuming.

Suffocating.

John gasped as he pulled his head out of the oil drum, splashing inky droplets across the warehouse floor.

“One minute, fifteen seconds. Not bad John.” Alex said with a grin. “Stuart. Give him the suitcase.”