For Sue Vincent’s writephoto Thursday writing prompt.
First there had been the lift, then the stairs, old, rough-hewn stone, now the corridor flagged in stone, leading even further down into the earth. There would be a new world at the end, he told himself, perhaps even an old world, full of magic and mystery. His feet rang and echoed hollowly in the silence. The light was subdued, falling from sconces at roof level. Soft, he thought, warm. There would be a warm welcome at the end when he passed through the portal at the end of the corridor, for he could see the end ahead, beyond the open gate, open to let him through. There would be peace soon, he told himself. Let it be soon, his spirit whispered, and he gulped back the tears of despair as the iron gate of the interrogation room clanged closed behind him.