present

The humidity and dust was oppressive, one clinging to the other creating a thick, smoky miasma that haunted the room like a forlorn spirit cursed to spend eternity toiling away among the children of the breaker room. The machine was cacophonous, spitting the anthracite shards down half a dozen shoots like bullets from a hand-cranked gun. Staggered across the shoots, hunched over on small wooden backed slats, sat three dozen boys furious picking their way through the jagged, broken shards.

“The ‘Suade Boss is over there-” A soot covered hand pointed across the Captain's line of vision. “He’ll know which boy yer lookin’ fer.”

“‘Suade boss?” The Captain asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah. Sometimes the boys slack off, try ta...

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