Monday, December 8, 2008

Drabble: Calling


I shore up the walls of the tunnel as I go, turning back to press the soil and rock into itself every few metres, spray it down with a glandular secretion that hardens quickly into a solid bulwark. The smaller ones will follow behind, put in their metal walls and fixtures and amenities. They carry me world to world, give me new and interesting soils to chew, and they thing they are using me. But that doesn't matter to me, that's behind, all that matters to me is ahead, ecstasies of soil to chew, rock to crush or pry loose!

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