The Mysterious Disappearance Of Ned Scott - 1466 Words

The razor-sharp head of the pick, honed from countless strikes against the hard black coal, dug into the toned muscles of Henry’s back as he hefted it over his shoulder and trudged, head down, along the descending path. Layers of black coal winked in the thin beam stretching from his head lamp before fading and receding behind each step. He knew a long night lingered before him, and, as he had promised, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the peaceful solitude of his own mind; the blue of Charlotte’s eyes twinkling like frost in the dawn light behind his resting eyelids. Snippets of a conversation whispered behind him piqued his curiosity, yet the steadily dripping water distracted him from the dialogue. A lone lamp flickered ahead of him, moving and bending to the whim of it’s wearer; his uneven tread leaving differing prints within the loose coal dust. Henry felt his eyes waver over the deeper impressions within the dust and groaned outwardly as the identity of the miner materialised. ‘The mysterious disappearance of Ned Scott is revealed by the impressions of his obvious limp within the dusty coal-filled shaft.’ Henry groaned at the realisation, but Max, walking beside him in silent protest, simply grunted. An earnest and bleak mood settled over the midnight shift as they travelled the well-worn path to their underground vocation. ‘Why do we, so easily, accept our fate as directed by bureaucrats seated upon their fat asses from comfortably furnished leather lounge