Fractured Remembrance: "A Tale Of What Came Before"

Chapter 1: The Survivor

Writers Note:

This will be showcasing what took place before the mining incident and how George from the original book got dragged into working in the mines, and it will re-create the events from chapter 8.

In 1938, George Milton sat in a cosy diner, savouring the last bites of his sandwich as he perused the day's newspaper, eager to catch up on the latest world discoveries. Time seemed to stretch as he idly watched the cars outside go by, the hum of the city providing a comforting backdrop to his solitary meal.

The hush that had settled over the diner was abruptly shattered by the entrance of a commanding figure, Cyrus Dreadmoor. Towering over the other patrons, he strode in, a file clutched in his hands and sporting formidable shades that shielded his eyes. "Give me a top up," he barked at the waiter, his tone brooking no argument.

The waiter promptly fetched the coffee maker and handed it over to Cyrus, who settled himself at the table opposite George. With deft movements, he poured two steaming cups of coffee before producing a concealed flask from his pocket, its contents hinting at something stronger than mere caffeine.

"Need a top-up?" Cyrus inquired, fixing his gaze on George.

George waved a dismissive hand. "No, I'm good," he replied, declining the offer.

Opening the file in his hands, Cyrus stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You've lived quite a life, haven't you? Married twice-once at 19 and then again at 23 to your current wife," he remarked, skimming through the documents. "I'm guessing the first marriage was due to pregnancy?"

Unwilling to divulge personal details, George discreetly clenched his left hand under the table. "My life story isn't why I'm here," he asserted, keeping the conversation focused on the matter at hand.

Despite the temptation to probe further, Cyrus closed the file. "You want to work at the new mining operation I've set up," he stated rather than asked.

"Yeah, you need workers, and I'm willing to do the job," George affirmed, crossing his arms in determination.

Taking a sip from his cup, Cyrus nodded. "I guess you're hired," he declared, sealing the agreement.

George straightened up, donning his coat and hat. "You're lucky, Cyrus. If I were still the man I used to be, your attitude would have cost you a few teeth," he remarked with a nod before briskly exiting the diner. Moments later, he slipped into his car and drove off, leaving Cyrus behind.

George sat in his car, a wisp of smoke curling from his cigarette as he watched his wife, Matilda, through the kitchen window. She moved gracefully, humming a tune as she prepared dinner, her silhouette swaying with the music.

"Such a beauty," George murmured to himself, his gaze softening with affection. He opened the car door and stepped into the evening air, the scent of home welcoming him.

As he entered the house, Matilda turned and smiled. "I'm glad you're home," she said, reaching out to help him remove his coat and hat, which she hung neatly by the door. "Dinner's ready."

George nodded gratefully and made his way to the fridge, retrieving a bottle of wine. With practiced hands, he uncorked it and poured two glasses, offering one to Matilda. "To changing the course of our lives," he said, raising his glass.

Matilda's eyes sparkled as she clinked her glass against his. They smiled at each other, sharing a moment of hope and anticipation, believing that their lives were on the brink of a positive change. Little did they know, life doesn't always unfold as expected.

George POV:

Year: 1941

The air in the mine was thick with the smell of earth and sweat as I descended deeper into the darkness. My lantern flickered, casting eerie shadows on the damp walls. I could hear the distant clinking of picks and the rumble of carts being filled with ore. This was my life as a miner in the toiling away in the depths of the earth for a merger wage.