Inspiration Excavation

Inspiration Excavation.jpg

Written for Australian Writers’ Centre’s September 2019 Furious Fiction challenge
by Darcie T. Kelly

Seven-hundred-and-thirty. He counts the daily tally again and lands on the same number. Exactly two years. In frustrated rage, Sully raises his pickaxe, fills six running strides with roaring power, and strikes the unyielding rockface. The axe bounces away without even a spark though the impact sends vibrations through Sully’s fingers, up his arms, past his shoulders to buzz unpleasantly in his jowls. The cavern shudders releasing a gasp of dust and pebbles. Sully looks up, half hoping the ceiling will collapse.

 It was he who lifted the first spade of dirt from the now labyrinthine tunnels. In the evenings, young miners, new to Inspiration Excavation Co., ply Sully with drinks, begging him to tell them about the lost Choreography Caves or his years’ struggle through Teen Angst Pass. Most often, they ask about Big Idea Bend, a passage hidden deep within Author Abbey to which only Sully, the longest serving and most trusted miner, has access.

Sully slumps. In all his years, he never faced a slab as stubborn as this writer’s block. True, there was that six-month stretch back in ’fourteen, but Creator eventually changed directions and no mines were lost. In fact, the last mine lost was Choreography Caves and that wasn’t a block. Creator simply stopped sending requests until, unused, the cave crumbled in on itself. This is different.

***********

Sully bangs his empty glass on the bar when Humphrey sits, a growl forming low in his throat. While trafficking is necessary, Humphrey’s profession screams of Sully’s failure. Creator continues to send near-daily requests for big idea gold and the miners struggle to cover Sully’s quota with extra nickel nuggets from Character Cavern, iron ingots from Metaphor Mills, and copper coins from Plotters Quarry. Any pebble that can’t rightly be called ‘Inspiration’ is brought to Hum’s workshop where he welds ill-constructed forgeries and smuggles them for quota.

“You should’a seen ’em sparks flyin’ t’day,” Hum’s drawl fills the uncomfortable silence. “Barely ’ad ’nough coppe’ for ’n outline and e’en that didn’ fit togethe’.” He orders a pint and continues. “Da hole in that ‘In–spira–tion’ is big ’nough … well big ’nough t’ fit a plot!” Sully drops his head in defeat while Hum cackles. “You should’a seen ’em sparks,” Hum repeats letting Sully sulk.

Sparks. The core of Big Ideas. Sully hasn’t found a spark in two years, and here is Hum creating … Sully lifts his head, his mind racing.

“What would create the biggest sparks?”

Hum considers. “Forcin’ mu–chally ’slusive ideas t’ coexis’, I s’pose.”

An idea shimmers behind Sully’s bloodshot eyes.

***********

Hum, a welder-turned-demolitions-expert, directs his fiery torch at a line of pebbles. Gathered from every corner of the Inspiration Excavation Co. mines, specifically chosen for their repellent natures, the not-quite-inspirations buzz, resisting the bond until … they detonate with shattering force.

Somewhat singed, pocked with shrapnel, and coughing through blinding dust, Sully gropes for the once unyielding block, stumbles over a pile of debris, and discovers a big idea pulsing with sparks.

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Beyond Incandescent