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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