By Lena MacDonald
The town had a life of its own, a regular heartbeat that pulsed through the earth like ripples across the surface of a pond.
In the morning, it breathed in fresh-faced miners to the sound of a sharp whistle that, in winter, pierced the darkness and echoed like a predatory howl.
In the afternoon, it breathed them out again. Coal-stained hands left smudges around tired eyes blinking rapidly against the dying light.
The whistle always seemed quieter at the end of the day; low pitched and long, as if channelling a collective yawn from those who had toiled for hours underground.
Love it!
I really enjoyed that, Lena. What a hard life it must be, down in the pit.
this is really beautiful
Very evocative. Well done!
I loved the sing-song delivery of your vision in the life of a mining town. Very well done, thanks.
Beautiful. Brings back memories. Well done.s.jonez
So complete in so few words… a day in the life of….
I was raised in a mining community that was decimated by pit closures. This is a beautiful epitaph to those miners.
Thank you.
Cornish tin mining, likewise decimated, this takes me to how it must have been for my ancestors. Evocative, lovely, piece.
Very nicely done. To encompass an entire day in so few words is very skillful. Well done!
Superbly captured