Morning all. Getting back into the routine of things and feeling relieved to be working at my desk again. I have found I can work other places but really, there is no better place to write than the place I am accustomed to writing in. I find it much easier to slip into writing mode here. Having said that, let’s see what can be made of today’s prompt. Set the timers for fifteen minutes and let’s see what pops out of the brain.
Interesting. I didn’t think that’s where I was going when i started, but I can’t say I am made about where it went. Certainly something to think about for later. And kind of a nice way to kick off August.
Tuesday, August 1st: The woods were filled with predators.
The woods were filled with predators. During the night they would hear snuffling, howls, screeches and all manner of disturbing noises coming from the depths. No one ever saw anything venture out of the woods. In a way that made them more unknowable and more terrifying. If a shape could have been placed with the sound then the creature could be named. In my experience once a fear had been named it lost some of the terror it held.
I do not know if that would have been the case as later, much later, when I saw images of what was believed to lurk in those woods my terrors and nightmares grew. Then not knowing might have been a blessing.
During the day we were able to enter the woods at least along the edge. We gathered deadfall to feed the fires and harvested the berries, herbs and mushrooms that we could identify to supplement our rations. No one ventured too far into the depths of the woods. In the first few months, there were those who tried to push the boundaries, claiming the land for humanity against the howling wilderness. Those who ventured beyond a certain point did not return and soon we were all content with our strip of territory.
The wild drew a line beyond which we could not cross. They did not venture out of the woods, and we did not go too deeply in. It was the unspoken agreement. The edges of the woods were surprisingly abundant in forage-able items and we found it a great relief.
All of us were there as some form of penance. Our crimes against the empire weren’t great enough to warrant a death or prison sentence. Instead, we were sent to the furthest reaches of the empire to work off our time digging out the ore they needed and processing it for transport back to the civilized center.
The work was not bad. It was hard labor, but our mining was mostly on the surface. The rocks needed did not need to be dug out of the depths of the land so we did not need to tunnel down and risk collapses and other calamities that befell miners. For that we were grateful. The work was monotonous but overall not dangerous. We took shovels into the great fields and loaded wheelbarrows. We then trundled the wheelbarrows back to the base camp where they were put through the machine for rough processing to remove the heavier rock surrounding the ore and making it easier for transport. Later when it was closer to civilization it would go through a refinement process.
That process would belch smoke and chemicals into the air, often killing those working the machines before their sentences could be completed. Here those that worked with the machines had to deal with the vibrations of the rock tumblers and the constant swish of the running water.
While ours was a lighter duty, fitting our lighter crimes, we were not well provisioned and the bounty we foraged from the forest’s edge made up the difference.
Ten til Midnight 