o v e r . h e a r d

As heard spoken by a jubilant teenager on the Yonge-University line.

s u b t e r r a n i a n . w a y

When I think about how much time I spend underground, I feel a little weird; on a daily basis, I spend countless hours down in the darkness, speeding through dark tunnels and waiting idly with strangers on the edge of platforms in hollow spaces dug below earth and concrete. 

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One of my favourite books takes place primarily in the New York subway system: The Sword of Maiden's Tears by Rosemary Edghill. It's a dark tale of an elvish lord running around underground Manhattan searching for a missing magical sword and the cannibalistic monster which it spawned; it's mysterious and witty and romantic and makes me swoon. (I'm a sucker for fantasy, especially urban fantasy, and extra especially urban fantasy starring elves).

Often when I'm on the car, I look out into the passing darkness and think about things like the aforementioned people eater or Clive Barker's Midnight Meat Train (a movie about other tunnel murder monsters which I'm simultaneous morbidly fascinated by and too afraid to watch).