Thursday, 2 February 2012

Creative Writing: Black Gold

The dark descent into the mouth of the beast. All of us squeezed together, closer than any man should be to another. Eyes adjusting, our pupils get wider. At the centre of the earth Dai lets us out.

“There you go boys.”

Lamps on, and white faces shining back. The sound of trams running down the tracks. There are men shouting, and the clinking sound of pick axes meeting the glittering black coal face.

On I walk through the winding tunnels, which get smaller and smaller, and I need to hunch my shoulders even more.

Finally, we make it to our area. My office for the day. I start chipping away at the black gold sitting under Wales. And then it happens.

One awful, terrified shout and I knew that was it.

“Boys, get out. The canary is dead.”

Panic. Followed by a deafening roar. Then it all went black.

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