In the Cold
Sep. 8th, 2009 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
biggeloisIt's so quiet. The sounds that filter through my foggy mind I cannot recognise. I don't know where they come from. If it's me making them or someone, something, else. Before, I read about tunnels, caves. The books said you could feel the faint draft of air even at the deepest levels. Here it is still. I've been waiting for that wisp of moving air but none has come. Not since the light from the opening disappeared behind a bend in the tunnel.
I'm saying ‘the' tunnel. There are more. A maze. A labyrinth. I learned a map, read it with my fingers, we all did. But the walls move. I am lost. There is no light at the end because I'm not walking anymore.
My feet hurts. I think they are raw, I'm not sure. Since my hands stopped functioning, useless fingerless lumps at the end of my arms, I can't feel if I'm bleeding. I can feel the rough stone scraping my chin when I move my head though. Someone must have dug the tunnel, once. Someone must have started it. Made the first mark.
I try to listen for voices. What wouldn't I give to hear a voice again. Not just the muffled whimpers, hidden sobs, which have drifted towards me through the unmoving air. I think I'm sitting up, against the wall. It's hard to tell, what with the floors shifting. The hard surface against my face anchors me a little. It feels good, to be not moving, not stumbling. They send us down one at the time, a day in between. There is no getting away. So there has to be at least someone else down here with me. I can't be all alone.
There is someone here just in front of me, the one who went down the day before. Someone who is listening just as I am, after the faintest sound of a living thing. I didn't know that stone could be so dead. They say that the stone gives us life, that's why we have to go down. Seek the truth. I don't want that truth anymore. The ones who have made it up, they have seen no truth. Only the never-ending darkness that will never leave you. That's why they cry.
There is someone coming after me, I know this. Someone just as afraid as I am. Was. I'm not anymore. I'm waiting. For someone to find me. Drag me up. Eat me up. They didn't think we knew, but we did. All of us diggers, we know. That was why we don't get enough food. We will find other things to eat.
I wish it wasn't so cold. I long for warmth. And I wish it wasn't so quiet. I don't dare to make any sounds myself anymore. What if I miss a voice speaking to me? I'll just sit here, against the wall, the stone at my back. All quiet and still. I'm not afraid anymore, I can wait. Someone will be coming. And I'll be waiting. Down here in the dark. In the cold. Come warm me.
I'm saying ‘the' tunnel. There are more. A maze. A labyrinth. I learned a map, read it with my fingers, we all did. But the walls move. I am lost. There is no light at the end because I'm not walking anymore.
My feet hurts. I think they are raw, I'm not sure. Since my hands stopped functioning, useless fingerless lumps at the end of my arms, I can't feel if I'm bleeding. I can feel the rough stone scraping my chin when I move my head though. Someone must have dug the tunnel, once. Someone must have started it. Made the first mark.
I try to listen for voices. What wouldn't I give to hear a voice again. Not just the muffled whimpers, hidden sobs, which have drifted towards me through the unmoving air. I think I'm sitting up, against the wall. It's hard to tell, what with the floors shifting. The hard surface against my face anchors me a little. It feels good, to be not moving, not stumbling. They send us down one at the time, a day in between. There is no getting away. So there has to be at least someone else down here with me. I can't be all alone.
There is someone here just in front of me, the one who went down the day before. Someone who is listening just as I am, after the faintest sound of a living thing. I didn't know that stone could be so dead. They say that the stone gives us life, that's why we have to go down. Seek the truth. I don't want that truth anymore. The ones who have made it up, they have seen no truth. Only the never-ending darkness that will never leave you. That's why they cry.
There is someone coming after me, I know this. Someone just as afraid as I am. Was. I'm not anymore. I'm waiting. For someone to find me. Drag me up. Eat me up. They didn't think we knew, but we did. All of us diggers, we know. That was why we don't get enough food. We will find other things to eat.
I wish it wasn't so cold. I long for warmth. And I wish it wasn't so quiet. I don't dare to make any sounds myself anymore. What if I miss a voice speaking to me? I'll just sit here, against the wall, the stone at my back. All quiet and still. I'm not afraid anymore, I can wait. Someone will be coming. And I'll be waiting. Down here in the dark. In the cold. Come warm me.
