Mine Shaft

A quick story I wrote for a post of r/simpleprompts while I put off studying for finals. The link to the original post is at the bottom.

“I’ve waited…I’ve waited all these years,” Arnold huffed as he staggered towards the mine shaft.

After years of endless search and suffering Arnold was finally nearing his goal. He wasn’t as spry has he had been when he first set out. Age and injury had taken that from him. Ten years on the road can be hard on a man, and several broken legs had left him with a permanent limp. Nor was he as handsome. There was a time when he could have drawn the eye of every woman in town but those days, he knew, were long over. His hair had greyed, he had let his beard grow long and unkempt, and a grisly scar now disfigured his face. Others may have been dismayed by these changes. But he had long ago stopped caring about such things.

All that mattered was his hunt. That hunt was about to end.

He had hardly believed his luck when he had found his foe making camp in the mine shaft. For a decade the beast had been one step ahead of him. Always just a little out of reach. Finally, Arnold had the drop on him.

The task had required great care and some measure of skill. He had bought dynamite in the nearest town claiming he was a prospector looking to revive a few abandoned claims. He spent hours in the dead of night wiring the mine shaft to blow. It had taken all his self-control not to lash out, not to call his foe out right there. That, he knew, would have been futile. He would have lost.

Finally, as the sun crept up over the horizon he retreated to the detonator and cried out.

“Come out here you bastard! Come and face me!”

As soon as he saw movement in mouth of the tunnel, he pressed the detonator. Now he stood at the tunnel’s mouth. Sore from the exertion, tired from the sleepless night. There had been a time when he had dreamt of this moment. In his dreams he had written speeches that he imagined he would give over the creature’s corpse. Written epitaphs for any future traveler’s who found it’s grave. He did not care about any of that now. He just wanted it to be done.

Wearily, he drew a large hunting knife from his belt. A gun wouldn’t do. Then, from his pocket he drew a smaller knife and with it he pricked his thumb. Blood would be needed.

With his bloody thumb he traced on the blade the rune that he would need to kill the creature. In some ways his discovery of the rune had been a miracle. He had laid down drunk and defeated in a gutter, convinced that his quest was futile. In the course of that night he had contented himself with the prospect of drowning in the runoff. It would have been an ignoble death, but he and others would have been able to write it off as an accident, allowing him to go into the next lift with a comforting lie. When a strange man with a knowing smile had approached him and promised him the solution to all his ills.

To another man the rune might have been a curse. It was an evil thing. One not meant for this world. Its very presence was an affront to life, to warmth, to all that was good. It was Arnold’s only hope.

The simple act of writing it on the blade drained his strength, looking at it made his eyes ache. Already he felt the rot festering inside him. Holding the knife for too long would bring him ruin. Thankfully, he only needed it for a few moments more.

With his weapon prepared he entered the mine shaft.

There his foe lay buried beneath mounds of rubble. The snarling face was stuck somewhere in between man and beast. The blast had caught him in the middle of his transformation. In his enemy’s eyes, Arnold saw a flash of recognition.

He did not hesitate. There was no time for doubt. Every minute wasted was another minute that the creature could use to escape.

Moving carefully, he knelt down beside the beast, who lashed out with clawed hands but was unable to reach him. Arnold took the knife in both hands and raised it far above his head. His body trembled. The rune was sapping his strength. He was running out of time now. He had to act.

He took a deep, sobbing breath, and rammed the knife into the thing’s chest.

 

“I waited…I waited all these years” from SimplePrompts