Sunken Eyes — Brett P.S.

A boy and his dog. Breaking dawn gleams rays of orange down through the subway stair rail. Frilled vines wriggle as Ben slides his hand across his descent, his other wrapped tight around his flashlight. Each step brings him further from the overworld and the warm fires of his clan. Each step sends him deeper into the depths of a hellish prison known only to those fiendish creatures that subsist on dread and the lies of the old world.