That guy is gone now. We are his wake. He
- That guy is gone now. We are his wake. He always leaves us behind to do the hard work. The plodding and trudging, that is our plate. Still, we're standing at least. Some can't do
- much standing after years hunched over in the tight and dusty passages of the coal mine. Life is short so nobody has time to complain we just continue with the
- Mundane thrum of life. The swing of the picaxe pounding into the wall. The constant music of the tink of metal against stone. But it's not something everyone can take. It was all
- the craze these days to become a miner, risking life and limb to put food on the table. Not everyone makes it past the weaning stage where the eyes are exposed to freshly cut onion
- to see if they are tough enough to withstand working underground in tight quarters for long hours with men who sometimes do not have time to clean their underwear. A miner must be
- able to work 12 hours, straight, no breaks...and, if need be...if nature called (trust me...nature calls a lot 2 miles underground)...a miner has to piss and shit in his underwear
- This, of course, led to the build-up of unpleasant scents and other things that well both unpleasant and explosive, like methane and frustration. It couldn't stay that way forever.
- Barnes fished for the match box in his jacket pocket. He inhaled the revolting air and made up his mind. He struck the match against the strip once, twice, and the flame took. With
- in five seconds, the world as Barnes knew it ceased to exist...which was exactly what he'd hoped. What Barnes didn't count on, though, was that he would survive the gas explosion.
- He limped away from the smoldering crater with rearranged body parts, along with a newfound ability that allowed him to laugh ten times a second. Blast waves will do that to a man.
- Started
- 2018-12-21 16:42:56
- Finished
- 2018-12-26 23:38:20
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Woab Dec 28 2018 @ 16:08
This one wraps around nicely from fold 10 to fold 1.