The Iron Grate

A dense iron grate barred the entrance to the concrete culvert. Cold air drifted out. I stood still, letting the heavy darkness settle around me. The rusted bars looked solid. Instead of turning away, I placed one clawed palm against the center iron rod and pushed forward with my mass. The rusty welds tore loose with a sharp, shuddering groan. Metal bent under my weight. The tremor echoed deep inside the hollow concrete tube, vibrating in my chest. Satisfying. The way is clear now.