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The Tunnel Of A Day

The tunnel has collapsed on itself with no resistance.

The entrance and exit is gone now.

The area I'm stuck in is barely dug out to my knowledge.

Still lying upon the stone ground, in the dark

with my hands covering my ears

to save them from the screeching rocks scraping

against the walls that is made from the same material.

As a few seconds went by I noticed that beside me

was not my pickaxe, but instead what I think is a lantern.

Feeling around more, I discovered it was indeed a lantern,

but a very old one at that, and busted up to.

No oil is leaking out of it to my knowledge,

but it did cut my finger giving it a chance,

reaching into my front pocket,

touching a box of matches,

using one of them to light it.

It was easy, due to all the glass around the wick being gone

it did prove my theory of the glass and my situation at hand.

The light was a yellowish orange color,

a very different contrast crashing with the walls.

The scenery in front of me -- is one of nightmares

I wish I was dreaming -- but the blood leaking out one of my

fingertips tells me that it is not a dream, god I wish it was a dream,

I need to figure out a way out of here but can I do anything at this moment,

and time is not on my side, the light will not last for long to my utter dismay.

I notice something that disturbs me there is no sound,

but silence. My breath even lost its sound to me.

Eventually I noticed a change, the silence became

the sound and a death sound to me, to my ears and

as well as my mind. Trying to think of something else to

distract myself from this, it was a bad idea

worse than the sounds, far worse than that.

The oxygen is becoming low by the minutes

here, a subject I did not want to notice,

I began trying to block it out without me noticing it.

It doesn't help that the small fire is consuming my air,

I want to smash it, to save me a few seconds

of life, but then I'll have no light to see and will

die in the dark like an animal with no meaning.

I feel the walls closing in more and more,

going to crush me between themselves,

payback for mining this tunnel,

or to please any deity they served, a sick fate.

I slap myself out of this nonsense,

and start to ask myself the real question.

Where are the others?

Are they coming to my aid?

Or have they already forgotten about me?

Did they only care about the minerals?

That is deep in this mountain.

I refuse to let their greed be my ending point.

I can’t leave my family like this, to find my body covered in dirt.

With my eyes left open looking at nothing.

Using all the strength and will to survive,

I stand up, and begin banging on the collapsed wall.

It does not move an inch, nor a centimeter,

then I try using my body to slam into it.

At least five times or maybe even fifty, I don't remember

fighting to survive, each time I would repeat “one more time”

losing my footing and falling backwards to the rugged ground

with a thud, puffing up some dust around me, I almost gave up.

The light begins to flicker, giving me a reality check on my situation

at that moment, turning my head to the right and gasping,

I saw it, I couldn't believe my luck.

It was my trusty pickaxe, she had been with me since the beginning of this job.

Even before that in fact, it was given to me by my grandfather, I was grateful.

Looking back at the time I thought I lost it in the event that happened.

Sadly she has taken damage to the handle, and is mostly gone.

She is no longer the most effective pickaxe in the field now; but she gives me a chance at life, I will not waste this opportunity

standing up again with difficulty, on my two legs holding the base of the top handle. There's enough left to hold it with one hand against all odds, I begin to chip at the wall. If the wall crumbles more, I will not give up until the light completely diminishes

around me. As a small part of the rock wall falls to the ground, and gives me some hope for each pebble that hits the ground. It is becoming harder to breathe,

but then I hear a sound not just a simple sound,

but the sound of voices.

I take a step backwards, I see a light bleeding through

a small hole made by the end of my pickaxe, and the air

that rushes through; it was like a fresh drink, I look behind me

and walk to the lantern, I pick it up by the flimsy handle and blow it out,

with carefulness, I smile at this, it has carried me to the end just like my pickaxe.

I found out the others were there from the very beginning,

they came to the other side and were chipping away at the wall,

for the longest of time to rescue me from this nightmare.

I decided, to take my broken pickaxe back home to put it to rest for good,

and for the old lantern, I will keep it with me.

Maybe someday I can give it to my daughter,

who has the fascination to be a miner one day.

Even-though I tell her all the time not to be one,

she is gonna give me a heart attack one day,

but I’m proud of her, to be honest.

This day was a close one,

but it is not over for me.

There will be other days that are similar for me at this point,

and I accept that with graciousness and with some bitterness

in my life, yet i'm happy.

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