It was about four in the afternoon when I found that the police had closed off the underpass again. Had to turn around and backtrack an extra mile to get home. I know I should be more sympathetic to the family of whichever poor soul they found down there but it's just such a bloody nuisance, especially when it gets dark so quickly this time of year.
Honestly I'd feel safer facing the underpass than walking another mile through all those twisting streets and stranger's homes. It's not even that dangerous of a place down there, not if you read the writing on the walls your first time and keep it in mind for the rest of your life.
I only know a little bit about what's down there but I do know it has an excellent memory for faces, lets you go through once for free - no hassle, no snarling or trying to trick you into breaking its rules so it can eat you. Rather nice of it really, giving everyone an equal chance to take their time once and then hunting them down any time they came back.
I remembered to take pictures when I first went - I'd spent years hearing about the varying trials and tribulations it forced the people around me through and I made sure to be prepared. I think this level of respect and dedication to playing by its rules is why it's never given me any grief - not even one tiny hurdle to hop over.
Shame about this latest one though. I tripped over his foot as I was heading back so I dread to think about the mess he's left behind in the underpass, if there's enough of him left that is. If the rest of him's anything like the severed foot though, he's been burnt worse than the last burger at a boozy summer barbeque.
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