Sam was terrified of the dark; his brothers made great sport of his fear. His family lived in one of the old miner cottages where the street gas lights were sparse. When the fog rolled in off the slag heaps visibility was poor. He hated the winter evenings and rarely ventured out of doors to play when the sun went down. Sam dreaded his coming of age when he would leave behind his childhood and begin his working life down the mines. He would follow a long line of brave pitmen who helped to shape the Welsh valleys.

The sun had not come up when Sam was roused from sleep and told to wash and dress. He tried turning over on his mattress but one of his brother’s gave him a hefty push which sent him sprawling onto the floor. Reluctantly Sam left with the others; he had no idea there was so much activity early morning. The streets were a snaking stream of men and boys moving to and from the pits; the occasional greeting in hushed whispers, as neighbour past neighbour.

Sam’s father grabbed him by the arm and took him into the cage that would soon descend into the bowels of the earth. He could see the look of anxiety on Sam’s face, ‘Don’t you be worrying yourself Sam, you’ll be alright.’ He was not a man of many words but they were enough to settle Sam’s nerves for the moment. As the cage lurched forward on its descent, a strange sensation arose in Sam’s stomach. The darkness seemed to clutch at him with long tentacles; his small light barely penetrated the gloom.

‘You lad are responsible for this door,’ said the foreman when they reached the bottom, ‘It must be kept shut until you hear the trucks on this rail then you open it to let them through. Once they’ve passed close it again. Never ever leave the door open. Understood?’ Sam nodded; he looked around for a friendly face but his father and brothers had disappeared down the tunnel with the other men. The murmur of voices became less audible as they moved further down the tunnel until he was left alone.

Sam shivered with the cold; he stood in water up to his ankles. His feet were already numb. He clapped his hands on his arms to keep warm. The silence was suddenly broken by a voice calling out. Every fibre of his body strained to hear the voice again; seconds later the voice had grown a little louder. Sam realised it was coming from another tunnel which he could just make out a few yards to his left. He crept slowly over to it treading carefully through the water ensuring he did not trip. At first he could not see anything in the cavernous opening. A strange sensation swept through him and he realised he had also been holding his breath since first hearing a voice. He began to back away from the tunnel when he saw a lantern swinging from side to side; it was moving towards him. He was mesmerised by the light as it drew closer and closer. A young boy about his own age emerged from the gloom; he looked scared. ‘Help! Help! The tunnel has collapsed.’ As if in slow motion, he beckoned for Sam to follow him up the tunnel.

‘I’ll get help,’ cried Sam.

‘You must come now,’ he pleaded.

‘Wait!’

Sam raised the alarm. He heard the thunder of running feet. Men gathered around Sam demanding to know what is wrong.

‘Down that tunnel, said Sam, ‘hurry there’s been an accident.’ Sam rushed to the entrance of the tunnel but the men did not follow, he looked puzzled ‘What?’

‘Who did you see?’ asked his father.

‘A boy with a lantern, he’s gone back up the tunnel. We have to help …. men are trapped,’ stammered Sam. The men drifted away leaving Sam’s father to explain the ghost of Dave Brown.