I’m not making shit up here. I’m perfectly sane and rational, I know that what I saw and heard was real. I’m not religious, I don’t believe in god, karma, or the afterlife, but what I experienced today I can’t fucking explain. I’m not making it up. I can’t sleep without thinking about it. I can’t tell my brother. My friends wouldn’t understand. But I need to share it with someone, anyone who’s willing to listen and make sense of it. No point for a too long to read, this is a very long story because I have to give some context.
I’m half Canadian (on my mum’s side), and half Nepalese. I spent most of my childhood in Montreal, but every now and then (usually, summer holiday) we would visit my family back in Nepal. The incident started in August 2008. My older brother (12) and I (8) were headed for three weeks to stay at my grandparent’s house in the countryside. I should probably explain that Nepal is a poor country, and if you head to distant rural villages in the countryside, it’s like you’ve just travelled back to medieval times - everything seems isolated, and there are little to no amenities. My grandparents lived close to Ghandruk, up north. As cattle farmers, they owned a decent plot of land with a 2-storey cottage, a well, and a barn with a bunch of animals.
Despite the language and cultural barrier (my brother could speak a little, and even pass for a local, while I was very much a little tourist), we loved it there as kids - it was like going to our private zoo. It looked huge: we were allowed to roam everywhere on the plot (apart from playing too close from the well which was strictly forbidden). But the barn was our favourite spot. To us kids, the animals we had there were real life pokemons we could play with all day (with no internet, and very few people around, it was pretty much the only thing we could do). I should also mention that my family there is hindu-buddhist, so eating cows is a big no-no (they only kept them for their milk). The goats on the other hand we could eat, which is what I always hated about the farm.
Several years back, one litter had given us an albino youngling, born with a winestained birthmark on its belly. It was shaped like a pink fish, “like a Salmon” my brother said; I heard “Simon” and that’s how we baptized him. My grandfather disapproved of the name, and generally of our affection towards the animals - he always scolded us for spending too much time with them (“the greater the attachment, the greater the pain when you have to put them down”). That didn’t even cross my mind, I just wanted to spend time with Simon and play games. My grandfather had a particular disdain for Simon - I never understood why. He kept calling it the “laziest goat”. Granted, Simon was a real goofball, and quite mischievous if unsupervised - but I didn’t care, that’s how a goat ought to act in my opinion. And besides, Simon always seemed smarter than the rest of the animals, as if he could understand when my brother and I spoke. I had brought him a special treat from Canada, and had waited all year to give to him secretly when we would arrive (my grandfather would have gone apeshit if he knew about it).
Then came the night of.
It was afternoon on August 5th 2008 when we arrived to the cottage, we were planning on staying for the month. After the family reunion, the dinner, etc. we headed to bed. I couldn’t fall asleep as I had a whole plan laid out: I’d wait until half passed midnight, take the keys from the kitchen, head outside to the barn, and sneak in with the special treat.
I knew my grandfather would finish his last tour of the estate (to close the barn and stuff) at midnight, and he’d fall asleep soon after. The snores were my greenlight. When I heard them, I followed through with my plan; got the keys from the kitchen, moved as quietly as I could (thankfully, between the animals and the wind, the outside noise was covering my tracks). When I got outside, the sky was covered in patches of clouds. You could barely see the silhouette of things. Suddenly, the private zoo we had known inside-out was now bathed in darkness, and felt very hostile for my 8 year-old mind. I spotted the well, and knew the barn would be about 100 meters to the right of it. I unlocked the barn and snuck in. The cows looked twice as big in the dark. All the farm animals seemed like these strange shadow creatures - I was quite scared, but determined. I whispered Simon’s name, and here it came joyously baaaaing in my direction. I patted him for a little while, removed his neck-rope, scratching his ear, and then it hit me: just when I thought I had succeeded in my mission, I realized that I had forgotten the special treat in my room. I was such an idiot.
I was anxious just at the thought of stepping out in the darkness again, of sneaking back to my room, on the look out for my grandparents - but I had no choice. So I rushed silently from the barn, back outside, and to the house. My brother was still sleeping on the mattress next to mine, so I silently grabbed the special treat. But when I stepped back out in the dark, spotted the well, and reached the barn, I realized what I had done: I had left the door unlocked and open behind me. In the barn all the animals were present - they couldn’t have detached themselves from their neck-ropes. Except for Simon.
The realization froze my body - I dropped the special treat and it spilled on the floor. I rushed back out, and called for him. Then I heard his bleats. I called again. And heard it once more; he was outside, but where, I couldnt see him.
My eyes, though they had been attuned to the dark, couldn’t spot any moving shapes - only the shadows of the clouds dancing on the grass. My heart was pounding. I needed to find him. I walked around, my knees bent, close the ground, and with my arms spread out like a scarecrow - maybe I thought he’d rush back in my arms if I did that, i don’t know, I just remember doing it. I was whispering his name, over and over. And could hear his “baaaa…baaaaa…baaaaaa” so close, but strangely so distant. My mind was racing; what if he runs away? what if he injures himself? What if he breaks a leg or worse? What if grandpa finds out what I did? The plot of land seemd to stretch infinitely, and the longer I searched, the more panicked I became. His voice sounded different, distorted, it was as if it came from the sky. My lips were quivering, and I remember warm streams of tears on my cheeks. baaaa…baaaaAAA…BAAAAA.
The bleats seemed to go louder and more desperate as time passed; I was expecting my whole family to awaken because of them. But they never did. I was terrified, and alone, scrambling to fix my mistake. The shadows of the clouds kept looming over me, and his wails for help resonated in the wind. I don’t know how long I stayed out, searching for him - but at one point, I made a decision. I walked back to the barn, locked it up and, ignoring the faint shrieks, I floated back to my room. Everybody was still asleep. It’s as if I was the only to hear his voice crying for help. I laid in my bed, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.
I had been so terrified during the whole experience, that my night’s sleep was surprisingly restful. The next day, my brother woke me up with red-stained eyes. Simon’s body had been found in the well. They never understood how he got out of the barn in the first place. I never told them it was me. That it was me who left him to drown, suffering all night, while I dreamed away.
We left the farm three days later, and never came since. Every night for the next 8 years I heard his baaaas. It’s only after my 16th bdday, when I was prescribed medication, that the wails stopped. I had learned to bury this trauma deep inside. To move on, and I did.
Until yesterday.
I’m now 23 years old. Despite my troubled childhood, I eventually made friends, settled in Ontario and went on to complete a BA in Sound Engineering. A few years ago, I found a new hobby in urban exploration. I got a kick from the thrill of visiting these places that civilization abandonned. I met two of my closest friends through this hobby - let’s call them JP and Liz.
To celebrate graduation, we planned a last big trip before adult life would separate us. Liz proposed a psychiatric hospital near Whitby, but JP had something different in mind: cave exploration. We had done this a few times before, but never at this level. The cave system was based in a heritage-protected wilderness park - if we got caught, we wouldn’t be charged lightly. Besides, it wasn’t just any cave we were heading to, it was an actual archeological site. We knew the risks, but the opportunity seemed too tempting, so we pushed ahead anyways: “the last trip to rule them all” said JP. We began prep work in early July, did a couple of trips in the public parts of the park to scout the area, and once everything was planned out, we headed to the site on August 5th.
There were 2 known entrances to the cave network; the largest could be visited by the public but was kept under constant watch. Yet, there was another entrance, more secretive, that could lead us straight to the undergrounds. The only thing about this entrance, it was bloody impractical (see img38): a wide horizontal crawlspace of about 60 cm large and 40 meters deep, located next to a shallow pond - getting through it would be painstaking, wet and dangerous. But it was feasible (in our research we had heard of a dog walker’s pet who had ran after a toad into this crawlspace, and was later found at the other main entrance - we were therefore certain that the underground was connected by a network).
We stealth-camped a few kilometers away from the crawlspace. At midnight we headed there. JP, ever the maverick, went first. I still remember the smiles we had watching his feet wriggle deeper in the cave, and how the smiles faded the further he went into the unknown. We knew this wasn’t a game. After 46 minutes of wrigling and encouragements on our part, he got through. “Guys, you have to see this, my light can’t even reach the end!” was the first thing he exclaimed from the inner chamber. That got us giddy. Liz, much thinner, got through in 30 minutes with much more ease. Then my turn came, I knew there was no turning back from this. We had been well-equipped with helmets and head lamps, but nothing could have prepared me for the claustrophobia of that crawlspace. After the excitement of the first few strides, I became eerily aware of the tightness around me. Liz and JP echoed their encouragements towards me - but my mind was focused on the ceiling and the floor, ruthlessly sandwiching me between them.
With every advancement, my belly was painfully scrapping the floor. The cold water created this uncomfortable friction below me. My neck was sore just from looking ahead at this awkward angle. Halfway through, a cramp in my left calf paralysed me on the spot. Some rapid thoughts flashed in my mind (what if the ceiling collapses? What if I get stuck? Who will come for us? Who will hear us scream for help?)
I focused on my breathing, and endured it. I knew it was far too late to back away. So I kept moving forwards, until eventually, Liz and JP pulled me to the other side. We waited a few minutes for me to stretch and re-gain my bearings, but we couldn’t contain our excitement.
Behind us was the tight crawlspace we had come from, with faint glimmers of moonlight passing through. But ahead, darkness that lead to who knows where (see img47). Our head lamp illuminated this route; a sort of tunnel with a few thick boulders in its path. The atmosphere was humid and damp, and the air had this mineral like aftertaste. To avoid leaving paint markers behind, and most importantly to avoid getting lost, we just stuck to the ‘right hand guiding approach’ (always walking forward by skimming the walls on our right, that way, we’d know that ‘right’ meant ‘straight’, and ‘left’ meant ‘back’), and being on the lookout for air movements (img55). But most of all, we were watching out for paintings. the cave was supposedly one of the most well-preserved sites for archaic “parietal art” (cave paintings) in the country. This was a place where people across the ages, going as far as 10 thousand years ago, had once roamed - and we, a trio of modern day young adults, would be granted a chance to witness it first hand. We walked ahead steadily but eagerly, I could tell the adrenaline had kicked-in for all of us.
JP who was leading the way, stopped at a corner (see img56); that’s when we felt the temperature change. Despite the humidity, we could feel a very slight breeze at that corner. We soon realized the breeze came from an enormous inner chamber. It’s impossible to tell how large this spot was. The highest ceiling was out of reach even for our headlamps. I remember how the drops of water accompanied our quiet humid breaths. The echo made it so..peaceful. We stayed there in awe for a few minutes, savouring the silence, and just looking around the imposing rock formations surrounding us (img60).
Then, after a short water/snack break, we moved forward, sticking to the right. JP, again leading the group, was pointing out a few strange markings we could observe on the rocks next to us (img64. Liz argued it was just a case of pareidolia (when you see symbols in random shapes). They stopped to have their little debate. I moved ahead just a few dozen meters, and that’s when I discovered our first surprise. I squinted my eyes, but I couldn’t discern the shapes. With my camera, I took two pictures, one with and without the flash. When the light burst, my two friends quickly rushed to me. We stood there for a few minutes, aiming our headlamps. I burst out a laugh. Liz’s eyes were tearing up and JP’s mouth could have fitted an apple - we were amazed (img68 and img68 with flash).
But amazement doesn’t last long for thrill-junkies like us - in fact, it lasted about 20 minutes. We theorized, talked and admired, but eventually, we wanted to see more. So we went ahead at a faster pace, determined to discover the other hidden wonders of this cave. We should have stopped here. Our first mistake was to break our navigation system: we headed left, towards another tunnel in this network (img72). Tunnel is an appropriate word here, as the path was narrower, the walls were smoother and arch-like. “we’re like pinnochio in moby dick” said Liz - it honestly felt that way. The route was more clearly drawn, but the sharp lefts/rights made it more unpredictable - we had no clue what we’d find at the turn of a corner. It made us more excited. And reckless. The atmosphere in this route felt warmer, and the dampness made our already muddy clothes cling to our skin like glue. It made breathing more difficult, but JP didn’t seem to mind, he was racing ahead. The scrapes of our foosteps on the ground made these harsh deafening reverbs. We were speed-walking at this point, but did not reach any end point or other chamber; the tunnel seemed to go on and on.
I started to get dizzy - the mix between the humidity, the cold-warm air, the reverb of our footsteps, the discovery we had just made - all of that was too much to process. There was also this noise, a low buzzing sound I felt in my ear-drums, kinda like tinnitus. I stopped for a second to catch a breath. I told them to wait for me. Liz did, but JP didn’t. I don’t know what took him, he just headed off on his own. He later commented that he didn’t hear us calling for him to stop (hard to believe considering Liz was literally shouting his name). I on the other hand was of the opinion that he just wanted to be the first to discover the next big thing (it was typical of him). Whatever the case, the two of us were left alone. I sat down to focus on my breathing, meanwhile Liz was calling for JP. 5 minutes passed, and he didn’t come back. “He must been fucking around” she said (I wasn’t convinced, it wasn’t his type to pull a joke in a situation like this). So we waited, knowing that he’d return on his steps when he realized we weren’t coming to him. 10 minutes passed, then 15, 30, still no sign of him. The silence made us uneasy, and impatient - after my break, I was feeling better, and proposed Liz we just went ahead to search for JP. She wasn’t up for it, saying we’d only risk him or us getting more lost, but there was no choice. JP could have hurt himself, slipped - we had to find him. We moved ahead for a few minutes until we reached a sharp left turn (img74).
I expected to find him there, waiting to spook us. But what we found instead was beyond our expectations (img78). This painting was much clearer than the hand prints we had seen beforehand. The boat and the three stickmen seemed so clear - it seemed a miracle that such a painting would be so well preserved, especially after so many years with the wetness of the walls and the air. It almost looked like it was just recently drawn. And what were the 4 lines below it? What did this represent? I was astonished, and began talking about these ideas out-loud. Liz, far less enthusiastic, had JP’s absence on her mind (it’s true that, at this very moment, I had totally forgotten about him). “Forget about the damn painting, our friend is missing” she exclaimed to bring me out of my daze. Looking at her, I noticed how pale her face was and the intense stare she had - she was visibly anxious. We were trespassers who had lost one of our own in a deep network of caves - yet it didn’t cross my mind to begin worrying (I guess I was too enthralled by my discoveries). And as we’re discussing the implications of JP’s disappearance, we’re heared this echoing noise - a quick rasp off the floor - coming from where we came.
We stared, called for JP to cut his shit. Nothing. It couldn’t have been him (he confirmed it too later) - how did he manage to circle all the way back from where we came and without loosing himself, it didn’t make sense. This was somebody else in the cave. We knew there would be cave animals here, but they would mostly be insects or spiders. The noise we heard could have only come from big. My theory was a bat, or some sort of cave-dwelling bird. Liz wouldn’t have it: for her, this was JP fooling around. And here we made our biggest mistake: Liz wanted to retrace our steps, go towards the noise and find JP. I however wanted to stay exactly where we were, and wait for him to give up on his prank, and come to us (and also, to keep studying the painting). We disagreed, argued, and evenutally, she decided to be off while I stayed behind.
In hindsight, it’s easy for anyone to criticize our decision. Yes, we’ve seen horror movies before, and no, we’re not dumb teenagers taking dumb decisions. You weren’t there, you didn’t feel the atmosphere, the anxiety. Was it irrational? Yes, but as you’ll see later on, there is nothing rational about the conclusion of this story.
I heard Liz’s calls for JP gradually fading the further back she went down the tunnel. Meanwhile I sat there, looking at the painting. I wondered about its author - what their lives must have been like hundreds, if not thousands of years from today. How their perception of the world must have been so different to ours. How would they react if we had met face to face - me a modern human with magic-like technology? I imagined their shock, their wonder, seeing everything through child-like eyes. I was philosophizing on these ideas in a strange detached manner, disregarding everything else. I have no clue how long I stayed there (Liz was the one with the watch). Then I heard the voices (or what I assumed were voices). It was hard to make out anything - there was just these faint and bizarre gurgling noises coming from the path where we had come from.
Since Liz had headed there, I naturally assumed that both her and JP had found each other, and were coming back to me. I shouted their names, and the voices stopped. I shouted again, nothing. A third time, then I heard foot-steps. Not SHOE steps, it was feet - bare feet running away, I swear that’s what it sounded like. This immediately startled me, I got up and stared blankly at where Liz had gone. We weren’t alone in this cave, and it wasn’t animals, I’m convinced of it. All the calm fascination I had just been experiencing vanished at my realization. There were others here with us, squatters perhaps, but it didn’t matter because our cover was blown. My heart was beating faster, I had to quickly find Liz and JP. I made a panic move, and headed left where JP had gone. I moved a few dozen meters and realized I was just aimlessly roaming forwards, following no strategy whatsoever. Instinctively I took a picture of the path ahead (img81 - naively thinking I could use it to find my way should I get lost), and moved ahead. But I wasn’t calling out them, I just stayed silent, walking at a steady pace (I don’t know why, I was just panicking). The further I went and the more confined the space was. The air felt cold, but my body was warm and sweaty - I felt feverish, and nauseous. I stopped, tried to catch my breath, not wanting to puke on a 10000 year old site.
“What an idiot” I thought to myself - why did I leave Liz go back alone. Why did I stay behind to look at that stupid painting. Why did I panick and head forwards on my own. The noises I heard musn’t have been real, just an auditory illusion caused by the reverb of the walls - this thought reassured me. But the solitude struck me then. How was I going to find them? I made an inventory of my belongings, chewed a piece of a snickers, and checked my water situation (my bottle was still half full). I knew I had to retrace my steps.
Then I heard another distant noise - this time, coming from the path ahead of me. It sounded like “help”. “JP!” was my initial reaction. He must have slipped, twisted an ankle, as we had feared. I hesitated; if I went to get him, I’d risk being even more lost. This entire path was a maze, but so far, it only went one-way. We came from one entrance, and there were no other deviations, it was one singular route - I convinced myself that the risks of getting lost would be minimal. So I went ahead, listening to the distant “help”. The walls and overhead ceiling were gradually getting smaller, and the path was becoming more slanted downwards - I was going deeper, to the point where I had to constantly crouch to advance forwards (img89). After taking that picture, I took every step slowly, reaching out my arms to leverage myself on the walls and avoid slipping.
I was calling out for his name now. But he didn’t seem to hear, because the cries had the same monotonous intonation. And the deeper I went, I noticed how still and empty the air was - no humidity, no breeze. It made the silence between his wails so oppressive. Each time I yelled “JP”, a moment of quiet, and then a long drawn out “heeeeelp”. I had no spatial recognition for the cries anymore; they seemed to come from all around me. But I knew this was an illusion. The route seemed to stretch infinitely (very certainly because of how slow I was advancing). The buzzing started to creep back again in my ears. I was trembling, and scared - I knew I wasn’t going to find JP at the end of this tunnel, but my instinct was pushing me to go further down. It wasn’t “heeeelp” I was hearing anymore, it was a louder, but less intelligible, wavering cry. I walked, and walked, and walked, and then it just fucking stopped. I stayed there, in this uncomfortable squatting position, looking everywhere around me. I was terrified (and I know this sounds pathetic); fully crying, calling for my mum. After a short while, letting my fear out, I saw him, or an outline of him, enscribed on the ceiling rock ahead of me. I took a double picture, one with the flash. It all came back to me then. I wasn’t meant to be there, I wasn’t meant to fucking be there, so I crawled back as fast as I could, back where I came from, and I crawled and slithered and scrapped my knees till they bled, and when I could run, I ran, I ran as fast as my legs could get me, and I screamed and ran and ran. I bumped straight into them.
Liz and JP tried to calm me down, but I had to get out of here. We had spent a total of about 6 hours in the cave I had been gone for 2 hours according to Liz. In that time, they had been able to find each other, and also find the way back out of the cave through the our ‘crawlspace entrance’. I was rushing them to go their immediately, without explaining myself. I apparently looked so pale and gaunt they thought I was going to pass out. I was the first to crawl back out. I did it so quick they thought I was going to be stuck or hurt myself. I did get hurt - I have bruises and scratches all over my legs and arms. But the first breaths I took outside, looking at the early dawn in the sky, was the most relief I have ever had.
Liz drove me home first. On the drive, they tried to explain their version of events, but I wasn’t paying much attention to be honest. I couldn’t tell them what I saw, because they wouldn’t understand, i don’t think they will. I’ll explain it to them later, maybe. I’ve been home for a while now. I can’t go outside. I can’t sleep.
Here are the last pictures: img106, and img106, with flash
Help me make sense of this