Hello again. As many of you know me, I am Ruxandra, the horror journalist from Bucharest, Romania. Some of you already know some of the things I published online, some by this name, some by my real name, if they recognised my style, if they know me offline or from my previous mainstream media career. Well, you may recognise me now, because today I shall share an old story I lived a long, long time ago. Something I struggled to forget, but something I think put me on the path I am now, that made my soul be touched by the darkness for the rest of my life.
I am getting close to the age of 38, pretty soon. What I am about to tell you happened to me when I was 15 years old, just before junior high ended. It was a beautiful spring night, very much like today, when I wrote this. I was an edgy teen, as much as a teen could be in the early 2000s in Romania, I suppose. I had a few friends who seemed to share my interests, nothing out of the ordinary. A metalhead boyfriend, two years older than me. Man, I loved that guy. Răzvan was smart, gentle, but also a little strong. Just a little, not too much. I remember how he held me in his arms and spoke to me about music. He knew so many bands, so many, I wonder how was able, in the time when the internet was still in its infancy, on dial-up, and when the mainstream OS was still Windows 98.
I remember that earlier that day, my best friend Catinca, my second cousin, called me to hang out that evening, with her new boyfriend, Călin. As she was 16, that guy was 17, about the age of Răzvan. She was very infatuated with him, as she saw him as the coolest guy in the city. At the time, a Marilyn Manson fan who also imitated the looks of Marilyn Manson was something pretty rare in our country. I have met him several times before, he looked at me with some sort of condescendence. And not just on me, but on Răzvan as well. Răzvan was more of a gothic metal fan, Călin seemed to consider gothic metal as too ”thin”. Călin wanted to go to the Duca park, near Gara de Nord (North train station), the largest train station in Bucharest.
The Duca park had communist apartment blocks on three sides, on two sides there were seven floors high, one the other four floors high. The park was almost completely closed to the outside, and mostly on a small mound. The center of the mound was devoid of trees, and a technical facility on it, probably connected with distribution of heating utility to the blocks. On the side where no apartment blocks resided, there used to be small homes, most of them demolished in the late 1980ties, some traces of them still present. Only near the small apartment block, there were more trees and the place felt like a real park. Especially since the area was populated by a type of people called aurolaci (or aurolacs), homeless drug addicts, who could become really dangerous at night time. Only a few public lights were on, since many of the lampposts in the area were removed in the 1980ties, and the park lighting installation was not replaced until 2003 or 2004, I think. Also, back then, the place was roamed by stray dogs, and that made it feel like an even worse idea to be there at night.
I would have preferred a graveyard then that park, probably, if the graveyard would have been clear of stray dogs and homeless drug addicts. Catinca insisted on going, she said Călin knew the place well, that the dogs knew him, that he gave them salami, things like that. Both of them seemed hooked into that. ”And besides.” she added, ”if we are many, there are smaller chances of being attacked.”. Pretty stupid teen mindset. At least I knew that both Călin and Răzvan had knives on them, it made me feel somewhat more at ease.
We met at the entrance of Gara de Nord from Calea Griviței, late in the afternoon. Me and Răzvan arrived first, Călin and Catinca were a little late.
When entered the park through a gangue from Calea Griviței. The mound was in front of us, and a small road into it. On the left was a lamppost, like a guardian of that entrance, underneath the linden trees on the sides on the mound. On the right, no lights for a long area, and in the center of the mound, as in the back, where most of the trees were, it seemed that public lighting was never installed. One of the first things was a group of stray dogs coming from the center towards us. One dog, white and thin, came towards us, looked at us oddly and started barking. I have been in a similar situations and what I expected followed: the rest started barking and approaching as well. Călin came in front of us, towards them, unzipped his jacket and showed them something we did not see and the dogs suddenly became quiet and started to slowly back away. He zipped back his jacked, then turned his head towards, smiling with a look of power, and a combination of mischievousness and arrogance: ”I told you it is safe.”
I was a bit freaked out and whispered to Răzvan: ”What was that? What did he just do?” Răzvan whispered back and smiled reassuringly: ”I think he knows some tricks with dogs. No wonder why Catinca is so fond of him…” I thought it made sense. We soon came near that small building that was probably connected to the heating system of the apartment blocks. ”In there!” signaled Călin on a place just beyond the building, towards a blocked entry to the park, close to the tree covered back. Near the building, a leftover of a children’s playing ground was visible, I thought it could use some renovation or removal. We cleaned up a bit on the ground and sat down.
The park had a weird, ominous vibe into it. Something disturbed, hurt, a little repulsive. Especially the part we just crossed. It seemed to me so, at least. Not a welcoming place, anyway.
Soon enough, we started taking out each walkman we had and started playing some Marilyn Manson. Călin got out some beer, took a sip, then the rest of us started drinking as well. After discussing some of the songs we played, Călin finally spoke out what was looming:
”How do you feel about this place?” I answered first: ”I know this place, it has seen better days when I was a child. Much better days.” Indeed, the place seemed to have gone down as years went on. Călin kind of winked: ”Perhaps. But something still stays unchanged.” After a small pause, he continued: ”Why do you think people stay out of this place at night?” ”Hmm… The drug addicts and the dogs?” I replied. He broke into laughter, but he stopped fast: ”Even decades ago, when there were no drug addicts and the dogs were far less in numbers in the city? Do any of you know the history of the place? What is underneath us?”
Neither of us did. Catinca was looking at him with a bit of calm fascination. So, Călin started: ”Underneath this park, this mound, there is a World War II bunker. Not much is known about it. All entrances to it are either sealed or hidden. The Germans would have used it. Perhaps this is the hidden reason why, when the US air forces bombarded Bucharest, in april 1944, on Easter day, focused on this area, but the train station was not hit.”
Răzvan replied sharply: ”They hit large areas of the city back then. They destroyed many homes then, but they probably missed a lot of targets. The houses that were where the apartment block we crossed to get in, the one with the gangue, were hit due to the proximity of the train station.” ”I would not be too sure on this.”, continued Călin. You know what they say happened the following night, in the aftermath, when there were all those people dead or injured? Some things, that looked like people, came out of the bunker and started to take away the wounded to an unknown place, some were killed on the spot by them. We do not know much, as the authorities took out the dead fast and disposed of them in an unknown location.
Some people whisper things about certain things appearing here from time to time, some testimonies even older than the 1944 bombings, not much is known. Why no lampposts were ever installed on the mound, only at the edges, and some of them were even taken out twenty years ago? Mere 1980ies energy saving? They could have just removed the light bulbs, and kept the lampposts for later years. But no, they got them out.”
We looked at each other, as we heard footsteps coming from behind. I turned to look, there was one of those drug addicts, he looked like in his teens, dressed in something that seemed like a forty years old dirty suit that once belonged to an old man that he received it out of charity. His shoes were almost completely broken, his buzz haircut revealing a scar on his scalp. His slightly opened mouth, his reddish eyes and, especially, the scent of those chemical mixes showed the fact that he was on dope. Shortly behind him, another addict, dressed in old sporting clothes, whose gender identity was not clear at, nor the age, followed. The years of drug use changed the face of people like those. They stopped and looked at us, I was feeling uneasy.
Catinca shouted at them: ”Hey you! What are you looking at?” Călin rose up and started to get something out of his backpack. A small, white object. ”Hey, you! Stop right there!” he shouted at them, showing them the object. They looked kind of abashed, then Călin started to hit the guy in the abdomen, knocking him down. The other drug addict made a move, but Călin showed them the white object and they backed away, without actually leaving.
He returned to the one on the ground, grabbed his neck and shouted: ”You know what this is, right?” You know what is underneath this place, isn„t it?” The boy mumbled some words I could not comprehend. Călin twisted his ear and rubbed the white object to his neck. ”Knock it off, leave him alone, right now!” I started to shout at Călin. Călin let him go, as the boy started to crawl towards his companion, then both of them left.
With a victorious smile, Călin came towards us: ”No real harm to him, I just wanted a bit of his blood. If there is blood from more people, all the better.” He revealed to us the white object. It was the skull of a cat or a small dog, covered in red stains. ”If all of us place their blood onto this, the more chances we have to succeed.” Răzvan looked at him with a bit of anger: ”To succeed into what?” ”In opening whatever is down there. If you say you are not attracted to it, I will not believe you. That you do not feel the calling in your mind to do it.”
Răzvan was getting angrier: ”Down there? Into the heating pipes? With blood rituals, you wacko?” Călin burst into laughter: ”Are you chickening out?” He looked at me and at Catinca: ”Anyone else chickening out?” Catinca came to him, bit her finger and gave a drop of blood on the skull. Călin did the same. I could not believe my eyes, a sense of something dreadful looming started to creep out into my mind. Răzvan turned around and called me: ”We are leaving now.” I would have left with him right then, if it were not for Catinca.
But I went to her instead: ”Have you gone mad, like him? Stop this and come with us. She started to give us a Călin-like smile: ”He is right about you. This is not for chicken. The time is almost here. We may succeed even without you.” Călin went towards one edge of the park, on the side of the building, into some staircases that connected the alley at the edge of the park to the top of the mound. Actually, we came in using the slope that was, actually, the access for cars, there were some sets of stairs on other sides, for people. Călin, followed by Catinca, went towards a place where all the lampposts were removed and the area was in darkness.
I wanted to shake Catinca out, Răzvan wanted to convince me to leave her, when Călin placed the skull on the ground and started reciting some incantations in a language I did not recognise, near a bush. When he got quiet, they looked at each other, then at us. Something was in his eyes, some weird, dark, satisfaction. Răzvan shook me and pulled me away from them, towards the road that we first came in. As we were leaving, we were looking behind, from time to time at the two who just stood and waited.
At some point, Catinca screamed. I turned around and started to run towards there, Răzvan could not stop me. Behind her, there was a man, quite thin, with long white hair, an old styled suit and a cowboy like hat, all his clothes being black. He looked sickly at his face, white short beard coming out of the skin that seemed leather-like. His eyes were fixing at Catinca, holding her in a fierce grip of his hand. Călin wanted to do something, but another man, similar to the first one, just a bit chubby and with somewhat darker hair, grabbed him. He kicked as hard as he could, but he was no match for the opponent. Soon, Călin was on the ground and being dragged. Catinca soon followed. Răzvan grabbed me: ”Come one, let’s leave this place at once!” ”I am not leaving Catinca to those bastards!”
As I was preparing to fight, the chubby man started dragging Călin underground, then another man started to take Catinca underground as well. I managed to reach her and started to hold on to her, as both of us were screaming, and Răzvan did his best to help me in keeping her up.
Soon enough, it became clear that all was helpless when, from behind us, a group of several people appeared. There were about six men and women, dressed in old fashion clothes, like two centuries ago, but not like it was in Europe, oh no, they looked like they were from a western or something. Or more, they looked like one of those Amish communities that even nowadays dress in XVIIIth century attire and live without electricity. One bearded man grabbed Răzvan, who tried to put up a fight. A long thin woman with a black and white hat grabbed me. From up close, I could not make up my mind if I was old or very, very sick. Her pale-greenish face was sucked in and, like in the rest, the bone orbits of her sunken eyes were clearly visible. As she opened her face with a grin, she showed her decayed, partially broken teeth, covered in green tartar. She grabbed my hands fiercely, and started dragging me towards the place Călin and Catinca disappeared.
The expression of the eyes of those people (If they were, indeed, people.) was a combination of emptiness and ruthlessness. I started to see the hole in the ground I was supposed to go in. Other hands grabbed my feet and started to drag me in, and I screamed. I passed out.
I woke up in a dimly lit chamber, where some sort of yellow light flicked from some kind of torch on the walls, but it was like a fake flame on the shriveled walls, that showed, on parts, the mud brick structure behind the yellow paint that was, perhaps, white a long, long time ago. I dared to look around, some kind of mats, old and scrambled, were on a dry muddy floor. Some broken wood chairs were around and, at the entrance underneath the mud brick arch, there was the woman who grabbed me, looking like a harsh grandma of XVIIIth century American midwest. Răzvan held me in his arms, Călin and Catinca were also awake. Catinca mumbled something I could not discern, laying on her side, Călin was standing, looking like being under some sort of spell or drug. His left arm had some fresh scratches that showed some sort of occult symbols. He was actually biting his skin to make a new one.
I looked at the woman guarding us, and above her, at the arch. This looked like an old basement of a mansion, that someone wanted to turn into something, perhaps, livable, or as a workspace, then it was left to decay. There was a mold-like smell in the stall air, it made me cough. I looked at Răzvan, he tried to stay calm, and caressed my head. ”Where are we? What is going on?” I whispered to him. But, before he could answer, the woman answers with a sharp, un-human (or un-living Human) voice, harshly, in some old, weird form of American English: ”You have been brought in the home of the Chosen. Your fate shall be decided in the trial. When it will be over, you shall be communicated the sentence for each one of you.” Răzvan answered: ”What trial? What are we accused of? In a trial the defendants are supposed to be present.”
The woman replied swiftly: ”The Prophet shall pronounce your fate. No need to be present, to say anything. Nothing that comes from the Prophet can be wrong. The Prophet is our guiding light, without the Prophet we can not do anything. Without the Prophet we would not be here. One shall not even dare to think against the Prophet.”
I tried to get up. Răzvan wanted me to stop, but I was determined to stay up. I looked upon Catinca, then went to her and shook her up. Her eyes were trembling and looked at me like a pig or a cow who knows they will be slaughtered soon, very soon. ”Rise up! Come on, don’t let go on me!” Călin looked at us like his mind was already in another place, an emptiness was in them, as his blood covered his lips and nose. Răzvan gently pulled me away from Catinca and took me into a corner.
We did not dare to speak for the next few minutes. Distant un-human voices were heard coming from rooms or corridors nearby, no clear words can be distinguished. Finally, footsteps were heard. Several men, including the first two I saw, appeared in the doorway. The chubby one spoke out: ”The sentence has been pronounced. The Prophet has spoken. It will be executed at once.” They came towards us. Catinca started screaming, I tried not to scream, but crawled into a corner, as Răzvan tried to protect me.
They grabbed Călin first, who tried to put up a fight, but he was brought down easily by the two men, who seem to possess an un-human strenght. The chubby man took him up, holding him by the back of his head, like you would keep a puppy. The other one took Catinca mercilessly up. She kept on screaming.
Another woman, who appeared somewhat younger and darker skinned than the first, came to us, alongside the first. ”No need to pull us, we shall come on our own.” said Răzvan. They did not listen and grabbed us brutally and started to pull us by force. I started sobbing, then screaming, from time to time.
We went into a corridor, not very unlike the chamber we were in, with the same torches. Other people like those I have seen came out, with harsh expressions towards us. As we were dragged towards some end of the corridor, Răzvan managed to ask: ”Who is your Prophet? What is his message?” They looked at us with hatred, as they pulled us faster. Catinca was screaming.
Eventually, we ended up at the entrance of some larger chamber, like a small hall. The same kind of unnatural, un-human looking people, dressed up in the same Amish-like clothes. There were lots of them in that chamber, even children. Some looked closer to a living Human, some looked like they died recently. Or something like that.
We stopped close to the crowd, without touching it. There were a few seconds of silence, before Răzvan asked, like defying them: ”Who is your Prophet?” The chubby man answered slowly, but clearly: ”Our Prophet? Miss Xaxie Pool. The one and only Prophet in the world.”
The crowd moved away, allowing us to see who was in the center. A little girl, no older than eight years old (or this way she looked like). The same Amish clothes, with the black and white bonet I have seen before in movies. She had black eyes without being, actually, black. In them was a deep anger and desire to just crush us. The rest stood up in reverence towards her.
In front of her there were some wooden vessels, and some tools, like some type of cudgels, axes and knives. On her right and left, there were two men, having some kind of aprons on top of their regular clothes. They were quite tall and had untrimmed beards. They appeared to be a bit restless in doing what was about to happen.
The little girl spoke, with a high and a little broken voice: ”You are convicted to death. Your intentions were dirty and you are of no use. You shall be executed at once.” As my heart fell to my feet, I could sense the satisfaction she had in saying this and anticipating what would come.
Catinca fell to her knees and started to scream senseless sounds. Călin followed her, and started to beg for his life, saying things like: ”We meant no harm, please, we meant no harm, have mercy on us…” But, as he begged more and more, the little girl had a larger and larger grin of satisfaction on her face. She made a sign to the two men, they silently threw Călin to the ground. The rest had some expressions I do not remember very clearly, after all those years, they looked like they had a submissive blankness and a satisfaction of their own, different from the one of the ”Prophet”. The man on the right went to Călin and broke his right leg. Călin started screaming in pain, before me and Catinca could start screaming, the next leg followed. The bones cracked one after the other, like they were bread sticks in the mouth of a hungry child. I turned my head towards the wall, Răzvan covered me, Catinca faced the ground with her face.
Sounds of flesh being slashed were mixed, at first, with the muffled agony of Călin. I do not remember too much, my mind tried to forget as much as possible and, as time passed, all became a distant cloud. I remember all those around us had a tendency to gather around the victim. Neither of those people spoke or even emitted any sound using their voices, it was all in silence. They kept moving around.
After a while, I do not know how long it took, I heard the ”Prophet” speaking out again: ”Now let’s get to the second one.” I turned my head and, for a few seconds, I saw the body of Călin, turned into a mess, on the ground, the two men were covered in blood. The mouths of all of those present I could see were tainted with blood. New vessels, empty ones, were placed, and the first ones, with blood gathered in them, were in a corner. Poor Catinca was sent to the ground next. I felt the need to jump and grab her, but Răzvan held me and covered my mouth with his hand, as the bones of Catinca started to break and her agony began.
He whispered: ”There is nothing we can do for her now. But look! When they all shall gather to feast on her, we have our chance. We need to run. I was conscious when they brought us down, you were not. I think I can guess the way out. Follow me, at my signal.” When the last of them passed us, going towards poor Catinca, as her screams turned into faint moans, Răzvan signaled me and we started running in the corridor, as fast as we could.
It would not be long until we started hearing footsteps coming from behind, it was a matter of time until it happened. We ran faster, moving beyond the chamber I woke up in, then we took it left, until we reached some stairs. The faint torches ended once we reached a hatch, at the top of the stairs. Figures were already at the bottom, Răzvan took out his phone, for light, as he tried to break away the hatch. It is a primitive phone, by the standards of today, but it could be used, if pressed, to show a little, temporary light. For a few seconds that lasted very long, seconds when I felt doomed, the hatch finally opened into darkness.
Outside the hatch there was something that looked like a technical basement or a bunker, completely dark, and large water pipes filled much of it. Some electrical lamps could be seen, from time to time, but they were off. Probably it was the old bunker that now housed the pipes for the apartment blocks. Tree roots were in front of us, scratching our faces from time to time. I remember one of them caused a bruise on my left arm, a bruise that I still have to this day. The exit was not far, as it was about to be seen, but they were coming closer. A metal ladder, pretty rusted, different from the previous staircase, harder to use, was in front of us.
Răzvan signaled me to go first. I reached a hatch that I suspected was the way out, something I was right upon. He remained on the bottom part of the ladder kicking them in their faces. As I tried to open the hatch, I could not figure out how, I heard sounds of flesh being ripped. Răzvan shouted: ”Push stronger! No other way!”
Finally, the hatch was open, and the moldy air of the bunker was replaced by the smog filled air of the city above. And the faint smell of the linden trees…
I went up, then looked back at Răzvan. He managed to get the opponents back up a bit, screeching their teeth, and pulled himself close to the surface. He was bleeding heavily, I tried to get him out, but they grabbed both of his legs. I pulled him desperately out, but they were stronger. Soon, it became clear that I shall eventually get tired and they will get him. So, he let go of my hand and, with a tear, managed to shout one more time: ”Run! Run as fast as you can!” Then he let go, and they pulled him under. I heard some horrible sounds, I can not describe them, and I never heard his voice ever again.
I was at the same place I was grabbed. I needed to run away. So I did, sideways. I went down the slope of the mound, falling on the asphalt of the alley at the bottom. I have not heard anything behind me clearly, but I had no time to check. I ran away on the alley, towards the gangue. A group of stray dogs started barking at me, but I didn’t care. I preferred to be bitten by them, then to be taken away by those things or people, whatever they were. One dog managed to bite me a little, but I hardly felt it. I reached to get to the end of the gang and opened the metal gate and got to the safety of the boulevard of Calea Griviței, where I collapsed to the ground.
I remained conscious in the next hours, as I was at the hospital. Of course, in the same evening, then in the days to come, I told the police we were attacked by the drug addicts in the park and that Călin, Catinca and Răzvan were taken down into the sewerage. They were a little suspicious at first, but they let go pretty fast, as no signs of any of my friends were ever found. I was a suspect for a while, not too long, they let go pretty easily.
In therapy, I manage to lie and, eventually, to be left alone. It was a long process, I do not feel like talking too much about it. I buried it all. I have spoken about what really happened only to a few people, never my family. But, from time to time I remember and, from time to time, I have had this nagging thought of sharing it online. I have done some research into the topic, it seems the area of the Duca park has had some incidents from time to time but, whatever those underground residents do, they do not do it too often or too visibly. The name of Xaxie Pool was not mentioned, anywhere, on those testimonies. Neither a clear figure of a little girl to resemble the ”Prophet”.
So, I still wonder now… Has anyone heard of Xaxie Pool? Anybody at all?