The Core

I pushed the core down, deeper than it should have gone. My grunts from each push left an echo over the lagoon for all to hear. The top layer of straw on the surface was cut surprisingly easily by the sharp edge of plastic. As the clear tube steadily filled with soil I watched the centipedes and beetles scuttle over my shoes.

“Head for the hills, little fellas!” I said directly at my feet. Kirsty and Ben just looked at each other with bewilderment, probably questioning my maturity in the process.

We were quick to move. As we pulled up the tube the ends were sealed. The ancient sediments would remain airtight for another week.

So the week passed by as the cores all hid in the dark dungeons of the labs. Without much thought, Kirsty grabbed ours as soon as we had entered the room again and lay it horizontally onto the table. Ben revealed his Swiss-army knife and tore into the tube with the precision of a brain surgeon. The Neapolitan layers of sediment left a sickly aroma as they breathed air for the first time in years. The silky clay near the top was as smooth as that atop a pottery wheel. Coarser sands littered the deeper layers, with their colours and sizes changing slowly along the core. What did this all mean?

I was quick to notice the roots and charcoal hidden within a deep, dark, silty layer. I pulled the piece out and felt the smooth texture of the aged wood. Was it a fire? Were there floods? How had this landscape been moulded over time...?

I pondered as my page remained blank. The sediments are cruel, leaving us only little but speculation.