Tunnels of Love


Day 1 of my 365 blog project will start with Wednesday Writing – writing a fictional story (or part of) for that specific day. So let’s jump straight into a story that I made up as I carried on writing.

***

John struggles with his laces and is lousy with his hellos; Gemma is useless at opening jam jars and saying goodbyes.
They met at the Frozen Veg aisle on New Years Eve, and both knew immediately that they belonged with each other.
Love was sharing biscuits, toothpastes and train tickets. Arguments would start around stray toenails, wet loo rolls and subtitles versus dubbing, but after a night of love making John would trace his finger down Gemma’s collar bone to her neck while she traces his engorged cephalic vein to his shoulder, share a moment of eye contact and accept each other’s unspoken apology.
For the first time in their lives, they were not afraid of the prospect of eternity.

And so the prospect of digging through the crust of the earth to be reunited did not faze them for one second when World War III broke out.

The sky was dominated by unmanned fighters, land populated by shells and footprints, ocean infested by new age pirates – yet they cast no backdrop to John and Gemma’s mission, a promise made in bed after their 121st love making session.

“What would we do if we ever get separated?”
“Like in a supermarket?”
“Yeah, or something more grand, like a war.”
“Well in a supermarket situation, scientists or mathematicians have proven that probability of reuniting is greater if you walk around and search for the other.”
“What about a war?”
“Same principle, but due to the greater potential surface area we have to cover, I’d suggest we aim for the highest point in the area to increase chances of reuniting.”
“And become sitting ducks for bombs and bullets?”
“Hmm… then we dig.”
“Dig?”
“Yes, we dig, we dig a tunnel in a straight line 100 meters underground. I’ll dig one along the North South direction, you dig along the East West line, we’re bound to cross over.”
“Ok, but I get North South. I always wanted to see the pole.”

And so they dug. John started with a spoon in a prison cell, Gemma with a spatchula.
John migrated up to a shovel when he left the prison walls; Gemma had to improvise with a pitchfork, two buckets and a pool cue before her first spade.
And so they carried on digging.
In the early days, they’d trade their tunnel spaces for food. But business was blooming fast and their individually became entrepreneurs of the WW3 shelter network industry.
Competitions were bought out quickly. Sub-tunnels with accommodation were created for family units of up to six. The direction however would never change.
And so their employees carried on digging.

The celebration when the tunnels met did not bear resemblance of the Eurotunnel that eventually led to the demise of Princess Di.
Employees of the two competing companies were unease by the connection. Job losses were feared during the merger, trade secrets at risk. The mid-management held a 3 days conference under lavender candle lights. An executive decision was made to seal off the crossover, and both parties would resume digging at different depths.
And so their employees carried on digging. The only potential indication of the crossover came as a subtle dip in the market values of respective isolated companies, before profit margin resuming to the increase.

And so their employees’ children carried on digging.

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