The End of the Tunnel

A Drabble


He'd been clawing for a while now, months in fact, slowly digging his way through layer after layer, laboring and rejoicing over every one he discarded. It wasn't easy but that was alright. He knew what patience and perseverance afforded a man if he just held on long enough. 

It was tiring work. How many nights now had he fallen asleep too bone weary to even think, doubting despite himself that they would ever make it? But each new day brought renewed determination, unwavering certainty that if he just dug deep enough, long enough, hard enough, they'd get there.

He knew some would call it dangerous - others foolhardy - but he found it exhilarating - each stripped layer uncovering something new - some of it predictable, some of it surprising - but all of it challenging.

He'd had to come up for air a few times in his quest to reach this deep but that was expected. It's hard to breath when everything around you seems to be closing in.  Even that hadn't deterred him. He always went back. What lay at the end was too important to give up on.

And when those around him became discouraged, indicating it might just be hopeless, he refused to give up. He'd never give up.

No. He'd know this brother of his one way or another and he'd keep digging, layer by layer, until he did. He'd dug before. He knew what the light at the end of the tunnel looked like. There was light at the end of this one - only this time it was warm - and whether it knew it yet or not, it welcomed him.


"If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes

You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise."

                                                      - Pink Floyd


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