Morning all. The sun put in a brief appearance, but it was almost immediately swallowed by clouds. I can hear the first few taps of rain hit the window glass as I type. No matter, I was planning to spend the day at my desk anyway. Perhaps the rain will merely be an encouragement. I’m betting it will end up dropping the temps down a few notches if nothing else. But that’s okay, because I have my fuzzy socks. My toes will be warm no matter what. So, toastie tootsies assured, let’s get the morning prompt started. Ready? Then Go, team go!
I kind of like this one. The last few writing prompts I’ve liked the people better than the situations. This one , I think I like the situation better than the character. well not better, I really don’t know the character yet. But I can see where I might want to try. I feel good about this one.
Thursday, November 4th: The hole was getting bigger.
The hole was getting bigger. Dirt fell at an alarming rate, crumbling from the edges as though something was clawing at it from behind. There were no claws, not that I could see, just the dirt crumbling, falling in, expanding the hole.
I cursed softly to myself. I did not want the hole to get bigger. I did not need it to get bigger. What I needed was the exact opposite. I needed for the hole to shrink, or better yet to disappear completely as though it had never existed. I needed no more delays on this project. We were already behind schedule.
Way behind schedule.
Another delay could kill us. I looked around, wondering for a second about the odds of keeping this quiet, of just throwing more dirt into the hole to fill it up completely as though it had never been and then not mentioning it to anyone. One glance killed that hope before it even blossomed fully. There were too many workers on site, and the day’s foreman was a stickler for safety if nothing else.
There would be no covering up something this large until it had been examined and its effects calculated. The project would have to be deemed stable before he would consent to let his crew work. I sighed to myself, knowing that I didn’t really want to risk their safety either. The thought had been fleeting and self-serving, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to live wih myself if anything happened to the crew because of my cut corners.
I looked to the foreman. “Shall we wait to see how far it collapses on it’s own or should we help it along to see how big the problem is?” I asked. A twitch of his lips showed that he was pleased with my response. Pleased I wasn’t going to fight him and risk sacrificing his people to my timeline constraints.
“We should be able to help it along a bit so we can see the extent. It will speed up fixing the issue,” he told me. I nodded and stepped back. He motioned a couple of his crew forward. “Hand tools only, and go softly, we don’t want to make it worse than it is.”
I kept well out of the way. The workers he called forward teased the sides of the hole, easing it wider. The hole needed little encouragement and was soon gaping wide, dirt falling at an alarming rate. I only realized I was holding my breath when the clang of metal against stone caused me to let it out in a release, drawing in fresh air to my lungs. The clang was repeated. The men circled the hole, the blades of their shovels now tapping against something hard . I sent a brief prayer skywards begging for stone. Begging for bedrock that has some inexplicable dip in it that we happened to find.
I knew it was a hopeless pray, but couldn’t stop myself from sending it up to whoever might be listening. I knew the geography though. It wouldn’t be bedrock.
The hole was no longer enlarging and the men stepped back. Another was waved forward, this one armed with a flashlight. He shone it into the hole. He frowned, got down on his belly and tipped his head over the hole, practically following the beam of light into it.
He looked back up. “You aren’t going to believe this,” he said. “We’re over the old city.”
“The old city?” I said. I shook my head, frowning. “Impossible. It never stretched this far.”
He shrugged, a full body jerk as he still lay upon the ground, “It looks like it did.”
Ten til Midnight 