VII

Dean Robinson
The Small Stories
Published in
1 min readNov 24, 2015

As the elevator ground to a halt the doors slid open behind them. It had been so dark when they entered they hadn’t noticed the alternate set of doors.

Stepping out into a barely lit corridor the doors swiftly shut behind them, about 20 metres ahead of them a corner that hid an occasional flicker.

The corridor was completely empty — at least leading up the corner — they set off in single file. Those with weapons had them drawn. Just in case.

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Dean Robinson
The Small Stories

Web developer, designer, cricket lover, idiot hater, aspiring app developer, hater of change in desperate need of change, or another holiday or both.