Blood of the Miners This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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He sputters out the ash,
clasps his hand tightly around the black rock
he feels nothing but the warm blood leaking in between his fingers
“How much blood did I lose today?” he asks himself
He wipes his face--blood, sweat, coal
“That’s a lot of blood.”
His boot crunches loudly in the empty mine, the fossilized remains becoming nothing but a shoe print.
He winces at the entrance, dawn stretching its rays, melting ice crystals formed on his skin.
He overhears,

“How much blood did we lose today?”
“Just 10 men, sir.”
“No, I mean how much blood did we lose today?”
“$10,000, sir.”
The boss brings out a fresh handkerchief, pats the single drop streaming down his polished head.
“That’s a lot of blood,” he says.

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