Gwen Tennyson walked behind several tourists, a brochure held tightly in his hands. She wore her traditional white shorts, and tank top standing next to her grandfather as their group’s tour guide talked about all the fun an interesting facts about the old mine shafts that the early miners used back in the day while they were digging in the dirt looking for the treasures of the underground.
She had finally talked Granpa Max into taking her and dragging her cousin, to the mine. It’d taken weeks of hounding him and a good number of puppy dog stares, but it was already worth it. Well, maybe not already worth it, but she had confidence that it was going to get better, even if she was having trouble not interrupting the tour guide to explain things better.
Her cousin on the other hand wasn’t having anywhere near the amount of fun that she was, of course it wasn’t really his scene. Just some old guy taking about rocks, and not only that, but it was some old guy talking about rocks while making you walk down a poorly lit cave tunnel filled with rocks that seemed very intent on stubbing your toes. If he’d wanted to learn about rocks and history he would’ve paid attention in history class, and maybe cracked that book on geography his parents had gotten him. Continue reading