The Last Dawn
It's almost dawn. My last dawn. The clouds are sprinkled pink from the slowly rising sun. I'm going underground today. It's a maze down there. Long tunnels, no lights but the pale white from the lantern I'm allowed to bring. They say it's cold down there. Cold, and easy to get lost. The ones that made it back the last time, said that there are marks on the walls. Scratch marks. Forgotten words from forgotten diggers. It's too dark to see what they say, the marks. But I can imagine. 'Don't go'. 'Don't leave me here'. 'I can't breathe'...
What will I do if, when, I turn wrong? When I miss one tunnel and takes the next? Am I one of those who will be not remembered by a last scream on the tunnel wall? I don't know. The ones that came back, they took the right tunnels. Reached the light again, half-blind and crazy. They cry at night, cry at the darkness.
The tunnel yawns open like a mouth, steel-clad teeth ready to bite. Devour all and any that comes too close. Something is rotting down there, in the cold, in the dark. Festering.
It's dawn. My last dawn. The sun peaks up above the distant mountain. I've been thinking about making a run for it. But I've seen those who have tried. They never come up from the dark again. It has to be done. I shoulder my back-pack. It's not heavy. I have food for a week, two if I'm careful. I won't need much more. They say I'll find 'things' to eat down there. Say not to worry. It'll be fine. They are lying.
The sun is warming my back when I take the first step towards the tunnel. I must remember how it feels. I will be so cold down there, in the dark.
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Yes, I am overly dramatic. Yes, I am going back to Uni tomorrow. Yes, I am stressed about it. Fuck me, five courses in three months.
What will I do if, when, I turn wrong? When I miss one tunnel and takes the next? Am I one of those who will be not remembered by a last scream on the tunnel wall? I don't know. The ones that came back, they took the right tunnels. Reached the light again, half-blind and crazy. They cry at night, cry at the darkness.
The tunnel yawns open like a mouth, steel-clad teeth ready to bite. Devour all and any that comes too close. Something is rotting down there, in the cold, in the dark. Festering.
It's dawn. My last dawn. The sun peaks up above the distant mountain. I've been thinking about making a run for it. But I've seen those who have tried. They never come up from the dark again. It has to be done. I shoulder my back-pack. It's not heavy. I have food for a week, two if I'm careful. I won't need much more. They say I'll find 'things' to eat down there. Say not to worry. It'll be fine. They are lying.
The sun is warming my back when I take the first step towards the tunnel. I must remember how it feels. I will be so cold down there, in the dark.
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
Yes, I am overly dramatic. Yes, I am going back to Uni tomorrow. Yes, I am stressed about it. Fuck me, five courses in three months.