Every day I will write the very beginning of a story, a paragraph or a whole page, without worrying about where it might lead. "Nulla dies sine linea," I hope!
Monday, March 17, 2014
203
It was the only road that still went under the canal. There had been another, two counties over, but that had been filled in years ago. Unsafe. This was the last remaining. It was a single, lumpy lane under a stone arch that dripped in twenty places. It froze up good in the winter, but even at the height of summer, it was a cool as a tomb in the shade. Though it flowed, the canal above was eerily silent. Cars did drive on the rutted road, but not many and not often. Some of the stones had fallen along the sides, and some old beer cans lay crushed among them. The sky was blue, but when you got to the middle of the tunnel, you couldn't see it from either end. The tunnel echoed and could turn any voice into a looping lament.
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