AND! After a very long break… I’ve attempted a little post again. My sister gave the prompt, “No adverbs or adjectives allowed. Try to write it in the style of The Great Escape.”

My dear reader, if you’ve never seen the film “The Great Escape,” you should. And this short snippet might not make much sense if you haven’t. But by all means, please read. And enjoy it. 🙂

And by the way, I might be trying some more Narnia themed posts… just so you know…

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A handful of dirt and stop. Carl had to turn his head around to sense the air being forced up the tunnel. He lay on his stomach, straining to hear anything from the others but the dirt seemed to absorb their voices like a sponge. But what would they say? There wasn’t anything to be said. Keep going. He struck the soil in front of him with the knife, grunting with exhaustion. Rock and dirt crumbled to the floor and he scraped the debris to the side and behind, turning his head to catch a breath of air. 

“Behind you, so don’t kick,” said Billy, propelling himself on his stomach. 

Carl started and smashed his head against the earth above him. “Got a bag?” 

“Sure.”

“I’ll have enough to fill it in a minute.”

“You getting air?”

“I’ll tell you if I need to stop.”

The knife coaxed a mound of clay from off the rear of the tunnel and Billy stowed the dirt in the sack. The process was a loop of dirt being dug, pushed, bagged, and sent through the maze of supports and tools. Carl’s candle sputtered and hissed, threatening mutiny and darkness. 

“Bring a candle,” whispered Carl, digging his nails into the soil. His hands seemed to be as effective as the knife at moments. Billy scrambled through the burrow to retrieve a candle. 

The air, bearing specks of debris and dust, pressed around Carl, making him choke. His eyes watered and he buried his face in his arm, fending off the desire to follow Billy. Keep going. A handful of dirt and stop. He needed air. The dust wasn’t clearing like it should. With a twist and a grunt, Carl turned himself and started on the trek through the tunnel on his elbows. 

“Hold it, I’ve got the candle,” whispered Billy, as he emerged. 

“Dust in the air. I need a breath,” gasped Carl, running his hands through his hair. 

“Keep pumping the air, Jud. Billy, take the rope and go for it.” It was Barrett who spoke. He pulled a ball of rope from his jacket and handed it to Billy. 

“Are we close, sir?” asked Carl. 

“We’re close.”

Barrett held an end of the string while Billy began unraveling the ball. With a nod to Barrett, he dropped on his stomach and pushed himself through the opening, unraveling the string as he went. Minutes passed. Carl’s breath steadied. Barrett checked his watch. 

“Should be nearing the end by now,” he said, clearing his throat and biting his lip. 

The rope stiffened. Carl didn’t seem to notice but stared at the wall. Barrett crouched by the mouth of the tunnel in anticipation. They heard Billy calling out, but they couldn’t make out the words. Carl stood with his back against a wall, sweating, but as still as stone. At last, they could distinguished words. 

“…the end! The end of the rope! We’ve reached the end!” 

Barrett glanced up at Carl. “The end, ole boy.”

There was no dust in the air, but Carl’s eyes watered and his breath quickened as he said, 

“When do we begin to surface?”

“Tonight.” 

“Tonight. It should take an hour.” 

“And we’ll be ready.” 

 

Love,

Hannah Jo <3