The Melting Mystery: (English Assessment)
In a black atramentous pit underneath the city, the most elusive and existential mystery waits patiently to be uncovered. A mystery that stole 189 thinking, breathing men from us, and one that the government does its best to ignore.
The timing was more important than anyone anticipated. The ground split in World War I, and in WWII, the blood, pain, fire, and death fed a slumbering force deep below the surface, threatening to wake it up. The countries were only just starting to breathe when the Korean War began. Rage is especially a delicacy. When that thing sent up a shudder, just the briefest twitch of excitement, it brought the walls down, sucking in the earth, filling the hole, and dragging men down into its depths. For these poor souls, though, this was just the beginning…
“Iceberg Ahead!” the Captain of the phenomenal titanic shrieks. “Turn the ship!” he shouts in a troubled tone. Unable to comprehend the words from the Cap, Jack retains the vessel proceeding straight forwards towards the iceberg. “Cap, Look up”, says Weather. the smoky shaded grey clouds start enclosing the vessel immediately; the clouds start swishing around in an orderly group like a tornado, revealing a pit in the heart of the earth. The titanic proceeds to get dragged away from the iceberg, and into the pit. Whilst getting absorbed in the core of the earth, the rubble and dirt enclosed the only opening possible to escape, they were trapped!.
“Christ Almighty...” groans Captain, and though his ears are ringing like hell, he can still hear the rumble of tunnels collapsing in the distance. He coughs, spitting out the rock and dirt, and opens his eyes. He can’t see a thing. His face and body are pressed against a jagged, rocky ground, with rubble weighing him down. But as the ringing fades, he begins to hear the screaming. And the crying. And the yelling. “Stop...” he says, unable to think. “STOP!”
Nobody listens. He rests for another moment before gathering whatever strength’s remain, and pushing himself up, shrugging off broken support. He turns around and sits up, but his ankle is still held down by some heavy chunks of rock. “Cap!” a voice shouts through the noise. “Cap, are you still alive?” “Weathers?” He looks up towards the source. “Hold on, I’m coming!” With a few hard tugs, he wrenches his foot free, nearly breaking his ankle in the process. Maybe he already did. He places weight on it, and a burst of pain shoots up his leg, bringing him down to the ground just as he was getting up, “My leg’s screwed real bad, Cap!” Weathers yell, but the Captain finds it too difficult to respond. He feels around for his lantern, but only finds more rubble, and a... gooey, unpleasant substance. He touches his head, feeling blood leaking. All he wants to do is sleep, but he knows he won’t wake up. He tries to push himself up once more. The strength isn’t there, and he rolls onto his back as an alien slowly creeps up onto him, dragging him down, out of awareness and into extinction. “What…” is all he can mumble as time becomes meaningless.
A few minutes or hours later, the warm glow of a steaming lantern pulls him back. He’s being dragged over the painful ground and propped up against an uncomfortable wood wall. The screams and cries have reduced to sobs and murmurs. Slowly, he lifts his head and opens his eyes. Sorrow, all around him. Only a handful are still breathing, surrounded by the remnants of their workers and their coworkers. A pair of grey dull, bare feet stick out from a pile of rocks and debris, the corpses having been lightly covered. A single lantern light surrounds the group’s faces. “I mean, God knows how many feet down with every path caved in,” says Ethan with a terrified look on his face. “Nobody will ever reach us in time. We have no food, barely any water, and…” He trails off when he notices the captain staring at him. “Where’s Weather’s?” They shift uncomfortably, with Ethan glancing at the pair of dead feet. “Oh, God…” “He bled out,” says Arthur, “There was nothing we could do.”
Captain hangs his head for a moment, sighing deeply. “Well, we must do something.” “I’m all ears.” Ethan crosses his arms. “‘Cause I can’t imagine a scenario where we last more than a week.”
The captain claps his hands. “Is there anyone else still alive?” “Who knows? We’re separated, and now isolated, in our little pocket under a mile of earth.” They lookup. The two surviving supports that appear to be ruined and old are the only two things keeping the earth from coming down on their heads. “You’re right, it’s grim.” The captain opens a pouch in his vest, holding a silver flask. “We’d better have a drink.” As the scorched drink warms his innards, something whispers in the back corner of his mind. A deep, rumbling noise; he struggles to hear it, and it grows louder. It’s a voice. Similarly alien in texture, he rotates and shifts until he finally understands its words… ”I CAN HELP”
