Two

Like a light bulb switched back on hours after being extinguished, the room was engulfed in sterile light. His eyes burned from the light which so ruthlessly annihilated the deep darkness. Rising to his feet he glanced over to where his hole had been, eager to continue digging. It wasn’t there. He spun around, looking vainly in all directions for his hole. Where the hell is it? He looked around again. It has to be here, how could it have been filled up while I was sleeping? Who could have done it? What the hell is going on? He spun once more, this time glimpsing something off in the distance, his pupils straining to make out the blurry image. What he saw made him sick. Dig. There it was again, right there on the wall, just like it was when he first found it, only this time at eye level. What is this? There was something different though: leaning up against the wall was a pick ax, something a miner would use. Well, this is new. He picked up the metal implement, examining it. It was made out of steel, heavy and sturdy. He began to walk towards the letters, taking breaks every now and then to put down the heavy pick. Eventually he arrived and prepared to dig. All right, let’s get this show on the road. This should be a bit easier than that damned rod. Lining up the tip of the pick with the dot of the i he drew the ax back and brought it to bear on his target. Expecting the chalk to yield to his mighty blow he was astonished when the pick came to a dead stop with a loud clank. The force of the collision sent shock waves of pain through his hands and arms. He dropped the pick and crumpled up on the floor in agony. A tingling sensation worked its way from the tips of his fingers to his shoulders and back down again. When he was able to regain his composure and stand up he touched the wall where his pick had landed, inspecting it for damage. The wall felt different this time, cold and solid like ancient granite. He looked closely at the dot, eventually finding the point of impact. A breath of disappointment escaped his lungs when he saw the tiny chip that had been removed. Damn. This isn’t going to be fun.

Hours and hours of work left him completely drained. His hands felt like they were going to fall off with every pulse of blood that flowed through them. His arms seemed to be dangling from a thread in his shoulders. His head still pounded to the rhythm of his hammering long since stopped. Progress was slow; the dot of the i had been chipped away and nothing else. There was not one ounce of energy or willpower left in his body. Heart rate slows, eyes shut, darkness. Pure darkness.