The Miners

“I just wish you could work at a job where you could see the sun.  A job where the light could kiss your face.”  I sighed as my dad located his gear – his helmet, hammer, shovel.  Most of the time he left his tools at the mine, but yesterday he had left in a rush.  He claimed his rush was him rushing to get to my dance recital and just threw his equipment into the back of his truck.  His pale face and shaking hands led me to believe there was something else behind his quick escape from the underground, but he was adamant it was nothing. 

“I know.  That’s my hope as well, but right now, underground is where I need to be.  The tunnels are calling my name!”  I watched my father trudge down the gravel driveway toward his beat-up truck not knowing then of the creature living in the underworld he lived in.  I also didn’t know that would be the last time I would see my father as his full and happy self.  It was like that day his experience with the creature left him the as the shell of himself.  A fossil.  As the myths grew about what happened in the mines, my father retreated back into himself.  The only way I could find anything about what happened to my father on that fateful day was to sneak into his office and look through his journals.  All the problems seemed to start and center around the damn canary. 

The canary that was supposed to help them was the one who called the creatures. The creatures living deep in the tunnel only came out when the canary sang for them. The miners learned the song that called the creatures and knew to run when the canary sang. Until the fateful day the canary changed its song. 


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