su

I was standing in the door of Manray, looking across the street. There was no brick building there, instead there was an alleyway--and it seemed to be heaving up out of the ground. The alley seems darker and colder than the street I stood on--and not a Boston alley. I could tell that if I stepped in it would be a different place entirely.

The alley opening continued to rise out of the street.
I climbed the broken asphalt, as if they were the rungs of a ladder, and walked down the alley. It was littered with garbage cans and scraps of paper soaked to the ground.

The alley seemed deserted, but I could feel something in the air.
Heard soft voices in the distance: children playing; bums fighting; people moaning in pain. Still I saw no one.

Walked on, I saw my friend Jan sitting by a trash can, in a white t-shirt and blue shorts. I was about to ask her if she was cold. But before I could she smiled and disappeared--vanished into thin air.

Just past the trash can I saw what looked to be a fur coat, white and black. there was a girl's foot sticking out from underneath, no shoe, no sock.
I didn't want to walk any further--I knew who this was. it was already too late.

I pushed myself to walk a bit more, and woke up.