Sitting against a wall of rock, I lit a match and waited for a flame. Time passed as slowly as eternity, until like a newly born soul, the flame kindled and came to life within the darkness. Like a sensual, sexy dancer it swayed to and fro; its brightness intoxicating my senses and hurting my eyes. I watched in awe the mystery of its being; the colours and the movements of the flame as it twirled and swirled its way across the wooden matchstick like a circus, high-wire acrobat. Unaware of the burning sensation as the tiny fire licked my finger tips, I held the remainder of the matchstick until at last the flame flickered and bowed out at the finish of its dance. I stared at the red glow of the fading red ember until all I could see was blackness and as I sucked the lingering smoke through my nostrils, I sighed; the aroma of the tiny flame-dancer's perfume; exquisite.
However, now that my fantasy had ended, it was time for me to face the reality of my situation once again. At times, I didn't know if I was awake or asleep because even if I held my hand a few inches from my face, such was the darkness, the encapsulating blackness; it could not be seen. And, when I held my breath, if it weren't for the constant dripping sound I heard, being dead and imprisoned in purgatory as payment for my sins was a distinct possibility. But I wasn't alone; I was in the company of several dead men; silently, they shared my warm black cavern, which was over a mile deep beneath the surface of the earth.
I was a coal miner and I emphasize the word "was" because I shall die here with my fellow miners in this underground mausoleum, which was exquisitely carved out by muscle and blood, especially a great deal of red blood, by men who were paid only a mere pittance by insensitive businessmen, who only felt fulfilled when their fingertips touched bales of dollar bills. But I'm not angry at them; it was me; me alone that marched these size 12 boots into this dark pit, picked up a pick and began hammering at the walls and breaking out large chunks of coal.
I've no idea how long I've been trapped in this black pit beneath the earth's surface; time is as evasive as daylight. The last light I remember seeing was an explosion that charged through the tunnels like a stampeding elephant knocking everything ass over tea kettle. When I came to, I have no recollection how long I'd been unconscious, I was stretched across what felt like a large rough boulder. The only sound I could hear was a ringing noise inside my head; the actual surrounding silence was deafening. After easing myself off the rock, I crawled through the darkness on my hands and knees until I reached one of the tunnel's walls where I could assess my injuries, which to my total surprise were none or at least none that were life threatening. I yelled to see if there was anyone else who was left alive but all I could hear was my own hollow echo; everyone else who had been working near me were either still unconscious or dead.
Self-preservation is our strongest instinct and hope is the strongest fallacy we all follow, so after the blast, with those two in tow, I slowly made my way down the tunnel, using the wall as a guide. Every now and then I stepped on something soft and when I reached down to feel what it was, even though I knew it was the body of a man, I'd check to see if he was still alive but each one I came across was dead. Now, some may think me insensitive, uncaring about my fellow man but when I was assured the person was dead, I searched through his clothing for something that might aid me as I tried to find my way out. As a result, my pockets were once bulging with matches, which I occasionally light - the flame - my only live companion. I also scavenged a badly dented helmet with the candle still intact. However, on the dark side, I also got to view the remains of my fellow coal miners, some of who were shredded and blown apart by the explosion.
I've eaten the last of the food I ransacked from several lunch kits a long time ago and my hunger pangs no longer exist. I imagine the flesh of my blown apart comrades is still edible, some of it even cooked to perfection but I am not the eater of men, so now, I starve alone in this desolate cavern deep inside the bowels of the earth. Both ends of the tunnel were completely sealed off as well as the openings to any other connecting tunnels; there is no way out. Sometimes I still hear noises and at one time I used to rejoice - the rescue-workers were very close - I was going to be saved. However, I've since stopped craning my neck, whenever I hear any little noise, I expect it's the earth just shifting itself; I know the digging for men is not as enthusiastic as digging for coal.
I'm not sure if starving to death is any worse than dying of thirst but so far, water seeping through the cracks has been plentiful so it looks like starvation will be my salvation. There's only one match left and the candle burnt out long ago. My breathing has become haggard and I'm so weak, I can hardly lift my hands. I think the time has finally arrived to strike the last remaining match and be bewitched one last time by my tiny, intimate flame-dancer.
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