The Flooded Quarry

Text 1: The Blue Hollow, by Kamal Weston

An original novel extract.

The lake lay at the bottom of the quarry, holding the morning sky without a tremor. Reeds whispered along its edges. A moorhen crossed the surface and left a narrow wake behind it, as neat as a pencil line. From the viewing platform, Idris watched sunlight move over the water and tried to match this peaceful hollow to the place he had known.

A loose stone clicked beneath his boot.

At once, the quarry returned to him. Drills hammered at the rock face; chains clashed against metal skips; the warning siren rose above the engines. Yellow dust coated his tongue and worked into the seams of his clothes. Far below, lorries crawled along the loading road, carrying pale blocks towards the cutting sheds. The whole hillside had shaken through the soles of his boots.

Idris gripped the rail. The lake covered the loading road now. It covered the sheds, the rusted crusher and the cabin where twelve men had crowded around a smoking stove at break time. Beneath the blue surface, the quarry's steep white walls continued downwards into coldness.

All of it was under him.

He picked up the loose stone and dropped it over the rail. It struck the water once and vanished. Rings widened across the place where the loading road had been, then slowly smoothed themselves away. By the time Idris turned towards the path, the lake had borrowed the sky again.