Edwin is an oddball, too intelligent to be considered a village idiot, but too strange for most to handle. A man of few words at work, the strong and silent mask drops as soon as he starts drinking. There he will entertain pubgoers with all manner of strange ideas.
Strangeness is no great sin, particularly when paired with a steady stream of stones Edwin mines at the local quarry.
Story
Edwin doesn't have many friends anymore, not since the "accident". But those who used to know him will describe a dashing ladies' man with good looks and a muscular physique.
All that changed, of course, after the mining disaster. Edwin, foreman of the team that was largely trapped down there, still feels partly responsible...
"Help us! Help!"
"Just hold on. I'm coming!"
"Are you crazy? If you go down there, you're dead too!"
"But I can't leave them!"
"The storm has already moved the foundations! It's impossible. Just bad luck, Edwin."
"Help us! Don't leave us down here to die, Edwin! Please!"
"Relax. I'll do the report to the governor. Just make up a reason why it happened, OK? Don't worry, I'll make sure he knows it wasn't your fault."
It was overcast. The sky had an ominous feel as the mine workers shuffled through the dense air as if wading through water. Foreman Edwin was stibed. Last night's drinking had been a little heavy. As he slowly came to in the dormitory already crowded with men finishing the night shift, he thought he heard someone mutter "You know we could get a really big thunderstorm today."
"Don't go!" Edwin sat up straight in bed with a yell, breathing heavily, nightshirt covered in sweat. The nightmare never truly left. But he was still determined to face whatever the day brought.
