I can't remember how long I've been at this vein. For whatever it's worth, the crystals have been very convincing.
These crystals are something else, "you haven't lived until you've seen one yourself" they used to say. My father was very prideful about his collection, he took it to his grave. I don't blame him of course, they are very pretty. There were times in my childhood that father would neglect the needs of my mother and I for the sake of his precious crystals.
When I graduated from the scholars I decided to come and brave these old mines to see what the craze was about, I never seem to have found any others before this small cluster. I see it now, these crystals have a way of pulling you in, they call to you with the most beautiful voices.
I was a fairly known author before everyone went mad, despite my best efforts to stay positive in such a time, it's hard when you're forced to bury your own sisters. My parent's combined wealth was able to afford us what should have been completely safe houses, but somehow, against all odds, this horrible infection managed to seep through the cracks.
Pushing aside all of the graphic, icky details.
As soon as I saw the crystals I've heard about all my life, I might have fallen in love. The soft, florescent glow of the ginormous, posh, violet crystals caught my gaze and refused to let it go.
The sheer size of the crystals was enough to tell me how long I would be spending up here, every second I spent setting up my miniature campsite was another inch closer to driving my pickaxe into the chrysalis that formed around it.
I've been scheduling each day's mining rotation, I usually spend around 4 hours drilling away at the crystal, adding up every crystal in the cart leading back out. Then I write, eat, sleep, and do it all over again.
It's very lonely here, I find myself singing a lot. I'm not very good at it, but there is this one man that comes down, every so often when I sing, he comes down the tunnel and sits a few yards in front of me and listens quite intently. I can't see his face, but I can tell that he is smiling underneath the darkness of his hoods and scarves. When I finish, he silently claps and leaves me a nice flower where he sits. Soon after, he leaves, without saying a word.
I cannot tell for the life of me why he likes my voice so much, but as long as it means a company, I'll keep singing!
Until I finally strike the middle, I'll pick away at it more and more, I might ask my friend for help, but I doubt he has the time.
But that's about all I have to write for now, I will update when I make a little more progress, be good!
-Rosey
