Flash Fiction

He approached the subway from a direction that was due west from where he started. The subway was grey leading to black. He had no idea where it lead but was sure that it lead somewhere that he wanted to be.  Only as he moved in on it's gaping, sex like, hole did he realise that there were colours other than grey or black. There was the spray can red that informed him he was a twat, The deliberately putrid green that informed him of his rights, or was it rites. Either way, it was none. A few other colours were spottered about but the over riding atmosphere was greyness. Grey and sombre like a subway should be.

He stepped into the shadow cast by the feeble, low wattage street lamp. He could vaguely discern the exit at the far end. As he moved towards the passage's centre where he could make out both entrance and exit, he noticed that an air of indecision had overcome him. He glanced back at the sodium lit route he had come and forward to the now brighter, final end of the tunnel.

Should he go back or go on?

It was then that he noticed in the gloom the door to his left marked exit. It was very slightly ajar and only just visible was a faint red glow emanating from it. In his indecision about which way to go, he reached out for the door's handle. As his grip tightened on it the light from either end of the subway blinked out and he was dragged toward the red, hellish glow.