Black Lung Shadows

Chapter 2 - Jeremy Holloway

The cavern was an unending void of black. Coal dust lingered thick in the air, clinging to every surface, every pore, every breath. Jeremy Holloway stood knee-deep in the shadows, the dull clink of his pickaxe echoing against the jagged walls. At 26, he was already a veteran of the mines, a life he hadn’t chosen but had been born into like so many others in Ashvale. His face was streaked with grime, his once-blond hair now indistinguishable from the coal itself. He sighed heavily, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow, though it only smeared the dirt further.

To his right, Jacob Carlisle, 25, swung his pickaxe with practiced precision. His wiry frame belied the strength in his arms, but his movements were mechanical, as if each strike of the rock took another piece of him with it. To Jeremy’s left was Jacob’s older brother, Bobby, just a few months older than Jeremy but weathered in a way that made him look far older. The lines on his face ran deeper, his eyes duller.

“God, I’d kill for a cold beer right now,” Jacob muttered, his voice barely cutting through the oppressive silence of the mine.

Jeremy chuckled dryly. “Hell, I’d settle for fresh air. Can’t remember what that even feels like anymore.”

Bobby didn’t laugh. He was unusually quiet, his pickaxe movements slower, less deliberate. Jeremy noticed but didn’t say anything.

Minutes passed, the rhythmic sound of their labor filling the space like a somber melody, until it stopped. Jeremy turned to see Bobby standing still, his pickaxe hanging limply in his hand.

“Bobby?”

Bobby’s shoulders began to shake, and then he crumbled. Sobs wracked his body as he dropped to his knees, the pickaxe clattering to the ground.

“Bobby!” Jacob was at his brother’s side in an instant, kneeling in the coal dust to steady him. Jeremy quickly joined them.

“I—I just wanna go home,” Bobby choked out between gasps. “I’m so tired. I can’t do this anymore. I just… I just wanna go home.”

Jeremy felt his chest tighten. He placed a hand on Bobby’s shoulder, his own exhaustion bubbling to the surface. “I know, man. I know. But we just gotta toughen through it, okay? Just a little longer, and we’ll all be out of here. I’m sick of this shitty job too.”

Bobby sniffled, nodding weakly as Jacob helped him back to his feet. The three stood in silence for a moment, their shared despair thick in the air.

Then Jeremy froze.

A strange sound filtered through the quiet—a soft jingle, like a distant bell or a faint melody, just for a fleeting moment. It was so brief, so faint, that he almost thought he’d imagined it.

That jingle, it was terrible. It wasn't like the Jolly sound of the reindeers, or the sound of Santa's sleigh, it was sharper, crisper, way more strange. It had sent a chill down his spine. But, he had likely just imagined it.

Jacob noticed the look on Jeremy’s face. “What?”

Jeremy blinked, shaking his head. “O-oh, nothing. Just my ears fuckin’ with me, that’s all.”

Jacob didn’t press further, and the three men returned to their work.

The coal. It was everywhere, inescapable. A vast, black sea of death and profit. Every swing of the pickaxe unearthed another chunk of its relentless darkness, a mineral that fueled cities and crushed souls in equal measure. The coal consumed them, its dust filling their lungs, its weight bending their backs. They were part of it now, their sweat mingling with its cold, unfeeling mass.

It glimmered faintly in the dim light of their headlamps, like shattered stars buried deep beneath the earth. But it was a false beauty, a cruel lie that promised warmth and light above while dooming those below to eternal night.