No joy for the miner's boy.

There was a sorrow on the streets of the town. If you breathed deep you could smell it; the stench of fear and decay. If you swallowed a bitter taste would burn the back of your throat with a vengence. The thriving mining community was dead now and the 'backbone' of Britain was broken into a thousands pieces of shattered dreams. The pits were closed, unemployment rife and where there was once hope there was now heroin. The sign said, "Welcome to Hemsworth, West Yorkshire."
I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay, is what he thought with a sarcastic sense of humour that only he seemed to understand. In fact, sometimes even he was perplexed. His own thoughts seemed to confuse himself. The thoughts he was having at present, were perhaps the most confusing of all. Just why was he living here? He supposed it was because he always had. Thats when he decided right there and then, decending the stairs of the job centre for the second time in the same week; that this wasn't a good enough reson at all.
He would pack his bags tonight and leave at dawn. Although, this "irrational plan" didn't go down well with his mother, he had made up his mind. The exhilirating feeling of escape and freedom outweighed the convienience of staying at home.
*Abbie*