The Nocturne

Brahms and Liszt

   As there was no chance of me making any more deliveries that night, not without a use of a bicycle. I texted Signor Francesco on the wilting phone, with it's moribund battery, to convey the bad news. He texted me back to say " Non importa." And to,  "Abbandonare la missione." And to return to the restaurant asap. He did not seem at all bothered about the severed bike tire, rather, he was more concerned over how quiet it had been at the restaurant from lack of customers,  sending me at least three texts complaining of how that it was like a "Cimitero" in there. 

    I began pushing the bike across the park, deciding to cut across it here in order to take a short cut. I had never been through this route before, but according to the Satnav on the phone, which I could barely read due to the low power, and which was only faintly audible, I could cut straight across this wilderness and arrive out on the other side of town. This would bring me closer to the restaurant and where I needed to be.  Everything was eerily quiet in Drastic Park,  now that all the other couriers were gone. All I could hear was the odd scratching sound from nocturnal animals in the hedgerows and the sound of the infrequent and distant traffic on the other side of the park, like an ambient humming. I listened to the uncannily robotic voice of the satnav again which now sounded low, slow and had a bizarrely distorted tone. I wondered if I was the only one in this savage place at night, and was not sure if that was a good or bad thing?   The dull drone of the navigation device informed me that if I kept going straight ahead I would reach the other side of the park in thirteen minutes and thirteen seconds, which seemed a peculiarly eerie and precise timeframe.  And although the device was fading fast, I began to worry if its' cadence might be loud enough, to travel across this barren wasteland and give away presence away to any nefarious entities lurking in my vicinity.  I switched the phone to low power mode to save the remainder of the battery. 

   As I walked on, struggling to push the bike through squelching mud, my feet getting even more sodden from the sloping rain, which pooled at my feet and up to my ankles, as I sunk further into the ground. The rain had started to fall a little heavier again. I despaired at the lack of light and noted that the visibility was getting poorer by the minute. Then to my surprise, I stumbled upon what at first, I saw as a lifeline. To my relief like a beacon in the relentless gloom, up ahead, I saw a bright light. 

   The tunnel, appeared to rise out of the earth, but I could see that it was dry inside and was filled with the gaudy glow of artificial light. As I neared it, I realised it was an underpass that seemed to stretch the distance of the remainder of the park. I peered inside it, and it seemed to be vacant. The only other life form that was present inside was a large rat, which crossed my path and trundled along down the centre of tunnel, seeming to know exactly where it was headed. I paused to consider this. Normally, at this time of the night I would not dare to go through there, not knowing what or who I might encounter. The park was not called the wastelands for no reason and it had received its' unflattering moniker by the local residents because it was the known haunt of drug dealers, drug addicts, gangs and other despicable types, who gathered there at night. Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate. Dante's' warning flashing into my head, I decided it was probably best to stick with the path that I was on. But as I made a move to continue, I stepped forward, and my white-socked foot was planted straight into a large, hidden trench filled up with mud and sludge that swallowed my foot whole. I yanked my foot out of the sticky mess, and it made an popping sound as it rose the surface, needless to say my trainers and socks were no longer white. 

   I sighed loudly, and glanced into now vacated underpass. I saw that the rat had disappeared, no doubt having benefitted from it's shortcut to the other side of the park.  I reconsidered. It was dry under there and light. I paused to ponder this conundrum, while propping the heavy bike against the side of the underpass and scanning my eyes around the open park, parts of which were fully obscured by the shadowy darkness. I think I had already made up my mind, to race through the subterranean rat-run,  but as I turned to retrieve the bike, something caught my attention in the centre of the park. It was both uncanny and unsettling. You should not be here.