Pluto’s sinister gaze rested on me as I closed in on my destination. The statue was standing on a little patch of untended grassland framed by two big buildings.
I had already seen depictions of the old god of the underworld, though this three-meter-tall figure sent foreboding shivers down my spine.
The statue was made from granite and depicted Pluto holding a long, thin scepter or spear to support him. The tool was strangely bent and partly eaten away by time, but it also seemed to stir up some repressed memories slumbering deep within me.
My curious eyes did not rest on the scepter for long, however, as they were almost immediately distracted by the rest of the statue. Pluto towered in front of me, his ragged, shaggy beard looking wild and dirty. His empty pupils seemed to inspect me, piercing me to the core. I could barely see his grim mouth, which sent silent threats together with his bushy eyebrows. The sculptor who had created this alien piece of art had made the robe seem almost real and unbelievably detailed.
When I finally managed to turn away from the muscular deity, shuddering, I noticed a second statue standing at the feet of Pluto.
It did not seem finished, more like a three-dimensional sketch that some artist had made of Cerberus. The three-headed hellhound could only be recognized by some work of imagination, its body being bulky, covered in dents, and in some areas in a shade of grey that made me sick.
I was instantly certain that I had found the right place, as the three stones Marco had written about were without a doubt the heads of this incomplete Cerberus. I quickly started to inspect the ugly statue, slowly running my hand across its granite surface, feeling for irregularities. When my fingers reached the grey areas, I had to suppress a scream of disgust.
The surface was solid, but not made from granite. It was slightly slimy, reminding me of jelly or raw muscles that had somehow grown out of the statue. I already wanted to turn away and leave in disgust when I heard a faint rumbling sound, and the sculpture of Pluto slowly moved away from its place.
How was this possible? I was sure that I hadn’t touched some hidden button or something similar. Even if I had, it would have been far beyond anything people from back then could have constructed! I went closer to the statue and looked down a hole of yawning blackness and of a strangely stretched-out shape where Pluto had been standing guard. The streetlights close by were not enough to make out any more details, so I decided to get a torch from my backpack. Soon, I leaned over the hole, ready to illuminate it.
As I used the bright light, I could see a stairway leading down into sinister darkness. What was I even doing? Should I not call the authorities? Who knew where those damned steps led? I was about to take out my phone and make the call when Marco’s writings came back into my mind.
What if there really was something unbelievable to be discovered down there? Unending fame? Would I let someone take that from me? The opportunity to discover something life-changing at the end of that path? No! I had to get down there on my own, just me!
Using my smartphone, I sent a text message to a friend, telling him about my current position and where I was planning to go. I told him to call the police if I did not send him another text by the next morning. That way, I thought I was quite safe.
It was 3:45 AM, and my smartphone would remind me of the time and the need to eventually return to the surface. Slowly, I started my descent into darkness, guided only by the light of my torch as I walked down the narrow but high corridor. The walls were smooth and seemed to be made of the same material as the Cerberus standing at the entrance. I was confused as to why nobody had taken notice of the two statues and wondered how this corridor had managed to stay hidden all this time. Repulsive, grey-shaded patterns ran across the walls, similar to those on the three-headed dog.
The farther down I went, the staler the air became. It didn’t reek of corpses or decay, but it was stuffy in a horrible way. I had left behind the cool air of the night more than ten minutes ago, but the stony steps still led me deeper down.
Again and again, I shone my light across the walls, never being able to notice any significant difference. With care, I avoided touching the grey patterns covering almost every bit of rock I could see, looking almost like veins. As I continued my descent, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was not alone. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my heart pounded in my chest.
In the distance, I imagined hearing a wheezing sound, though it was faint enough to attribute it to my nervousness. It sounded like the breath of some beast, lurking in the darkness just beyond the reach of my light. Every step I took echoed through the narrow corridor, as if announcing my presence to whatever might be down here with me.
When about fifteen more minutes had passed, it got harder to not simply turn around and run away, but curiosity kept me going. Where might I end up? In an otherworldly empire? A citadel of old Roman cultists? Ritual chambers of wrathful priests who had placed their god at the entrance to guard their sanctuary? The possibilities seemed endless, and each one more terrifying than the last.
I got more and more nervous as the walls seemed to get closer, as if they were closing in on me. The air grew thicker, and I found it harder to breathe. What ancient tribes had used and built this stairway? What kind of knowledge was buried deep beneath the surface of the earth? Was it forbidden, heretic, or reserved only for chosen people?
In the flickering light of the torch, as I climbed down the steps, I heard strange whispers and the rustling of movement just beyond my sight. I imagined hearing terrifying screams from inside the walls, as if the very rock itself was alive and screaming in agony. Or were they real? Why was there this dread in my heart?
At the bottom of the steps, I found an archway leading into gaping darkness. The blackness made me feel sick, as if it was a gateway into another world. But would it lead me to knowledge or despair?
Hesitantly, I passed through the archway and started to shine my torch around, trying to figure out where I had ended up. After a while, I realized that I was standing at the entrance of a vast hall. Its walls were covered by partly faded paintings, and the floor was paved with giant tiles. The ceiling far above me was hidden by the grey patterns and disappeared into the darkness far away from me. The air was hot and arid, and I had to wipe droplets of sweat from my face.
Lost in thought, I inspected the depressing place and the flat walls. As I was examining one of the murals, I noticed something unsettling. It was painted next to the archway I had just passed through with an eerily black substance.
When I realized what it depicted, I let out a scream that echoed through the giant chamber, eventually returning back to me like a mocking voice. Despite the heat, I grew cold inside. The painting showed a group of tall, skinny beings wandering across a grassy field. I would have recognized those profane six-fingered hands anywhere. For someone else, they might have seemed like idols, alien gods, or harbingers of chaos, but for me, they were something else entirely.
Why had I seen one of them in a hotel room? The thought sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn’t shake off the feeling of anguish that had taken hold of me.
My heart started racing and bottomless fear overwhelmed me. I got sick and threw the last bits of food that were still left inside my stomach up, tainting the old tiles on the lifeless floor.
As my legs started shaking, instincts threatened to take over my mind, commanding me to flee, run away.
But what on earth were those creatures? What was this place? What could those murals teach me? I sat down somewhere on the floor, waiting for what felt like an eternity, waiting for myself to somewhat calm down, finally pointing my torch to the wall next to me, getting a closer look at the mural.
The beings were made from black lines, though I realized a horrid mistake I had made when glancing at them earlier: The creatures had not been painted onto the wall, their images had been burned deeply into the old stones.
The high grade of detail unsettled me. Every last blade of grass had been worked into the wall with highest precision. How had anyone managed to do this? I looked at the image next to the one with the grassland and found a depiction of the same skinny beings, this time walking across what seemed to be a rocky, desolate wasteland. The order of detail was so high that for a moment I imagined looking at a giant photo. The murals almost looked as if they had been created by tiny, precise, hot beams – but they had to be older than two thousand years!
I tried to cope with these new realizations, but I failed. Confused and broken, I sank to the ground, feeling lost in the darkness of the ancient chamber. Still, the sight of those skinny beings continued to haunt me. Who were they? What was their significance? Had the Romans worshipped them as gods or were they remnants of an unknown branch of human evolution? The more I thought about it, the more alien they seemed.
But despite my fear and confusion, an unexpected thirst for knowledge started to well up inside me. I couldn’t simply stay on the ground, I had to know more about these mysterious beings and the meaning behind the murals. I needed to write it all down and share it with the world. This could be an important part of unknown history, hidden beneath the streets of Rome.
With a deep breath, I tried to get up and get closer to the murals, but my mind began to cloud over. My head ached and a strange ringing filled my ears, drowning out all other sounds. My vision started to fade away and with it, my consciousness. I fought against it, desperate not to fall into a horrid place of unknown nightmares. But it was too late. My mind gave in and I collapsed, hitting my head hard on the unforgiving stone floor.
***
I sat on the floor, leaning against one of the walls, my heart racing, trying to calm down.
What?
What had happened? Where was I?
The stones next to me were smooth and empty, without murals, though the hall still stretched further into eternal darkness. How had I gotten here?
What had just happened?
Pain. Confusion. Madness. They all were close.
I felt strange, felt like I had been in my body for the first time in forever.
Why had I blacked out? What was this terrible feeling in my stomach, this stinging pain of things I… should remember? My limbs were shaking so much that I did not manage to stand up. My torchlight was still switched on, but occasionally flickered.
Where the light cone could not reach, darkness.
The blackness surrounded me, having protected this ancient… cradle of forgotten knowledge for unimaginable periods of time. I was clutching my torch like a sword, but the batteries would be used up soon, threatening to leave me alone in the pitch black at any moment. Then, I would have to rely only on the battery of my smartphone.
How long had I been… gone?
Slowly, I tried to recollect my thoughts. Strange questions appeared in my mind, as if my inner self wanted to remind me of things better left unrecalled. The questions sent terrible chills down my spine.
Were we really this unimportant in the mechanics of the cosmos? Were all those things Marco had researched real, and not the fabrications of heretics and lunatics? Was there really so much out there, so much we did not know about our planet, about nature, about being?
Had Marco…
Suddenly, terror started to overwhelm me again. Why had he disappeared from the hotel room? It had to have been after returning from these halls. But why had he not described all of this? Why had he not written about the skinny beings? Had they noticed him? Hunted him down?
Those creatures depicted on the walls, I now knew, were real. They had been… No, I could not remember anything else…
If my terrible suspicion was true, if they had really gone after Marco… they would certainly chase me down as well! I had to leave, flee, but where to? Where was I? Why had I wanted to know so badly…? I finally got up, trying to stand on my trembling legs. I reeked of sweat, and the arid air made breathing hard work.
The murals had ended here, but I could see one not far away behind me. I must have come from there! The hall was big, but if I just hugged one wall, I might be able to get to the entrance. Turning around, I decided to head back towards the archway, resolved to leave behind the depths of this hell and the unsettlingly empty walls. I prayed that the gateway to this ancient spot of putrid horror was not too far away and started running towards where I suspected the arch to be.
Once or twice, I imagined I heard a whistling, humming sound, closing in on me. But perhaps I was just going mad. What could possibly be in these halls?
I was alone, definitely!
I listened into the darkness but could not hear it anymore. I had been right, of course! I was alone. Stupid me.
What could possibly be here…?
I suddenly hated the question. I also hated that I started to feel like I knew… I knew what it could be. I tried to focus on that hunch, but to no avail, it slipped my mind. Still, there it was again, in the distance. This time louder and clearer.
I was not alone, after all!
The walls were full of murals now, but I could not look at them again. I was too afraid, too afraid to remember, too afraid to pass out again and be easy prey for…
Every time I felt like I was almost remembering, nameless horror crept into my mind. Faint memories of terror, pain, and despair, and of loneliness, desperation, and the deep wish to finally die after eternities of suffering, to just let the pain and horror end…
My flashlight flickered more and more frequently. Soon it would go out, soon I would be stuck here for the rest of my life, taking the truth I now carried deep inside with me to the grave. If I was lucky, if I was not…
Then there was rattling and buzzing as well, almost inaudible, but making my hairs stand on end.
I felt something getting closer, was now sure that it was near. My sense of flight finally kicked in. I started hyperventilating as I mindlessly ran hundreds of meters towards what I hoped was the archway that had led me into this hellish underworld, praying that I would not find myself at a fork. I would not have been able to pick a path anymore.
The ground raced past me, and I had to be careful not to stumble while the weight of my backpack exhausted my stamina. When whatever was following me was no longer far away, when I felt it rushing towards me in my stomach, I simply threw my damned pack away, tossing it somewhere into the darkness, and the resulting increase in speed saved me in the end.
Faint mumbling started to get louder behind me. A creature from untold nightmares was there, hunting me! Wheezing!
Then, I saw the archway.
Salvation! The way out!
When I finally reached it, I could hear metallic sounds. Passing through the stony frame, I could not help myself and looked back, despite all rationality and fear that commanded me not to.
In the light of my torch, I could see a big, bulky body of metal darting in my direction, swaying left and right. Uncountable robotic arms and limbs were growing from the ghastly construct and only because of its erratic movements did it not manage to fit through the archway and crashed into one of its sides.
I recognized it.
I had seen it before! But where… when…
A hatch opened at the thing’s topside, caused by the force of the collision, and what I experienced because of that almost made me go insane as for a brief moment I remembered how I was being…
I ran away, driven by inhuman fear and bottomless horror, up the stairway and back to the sun that had just started to rise outside. The corridor had collapsed because of the creature’s crash into the wall, burying it all beneath tons of rock and soil.
I was in shock and did not know whether to be happy or sad about the destruction of this… historic site.
After I had taken my smartphone out of my pocket and called my friend to tell him about my safe return, I sank down and sat on the grassy floor, weeping uncontrollably. The statues seemed to mock me, and soon I got up and ran away from those unholy monstrosities, hoping to never see them again. From the moment I left the statues till now, I have the feeling, no, I know that I am being watched.
I somehow got home, back to Germany, using some spare money I had found in my wallet, which I luckily had kept in the back pocket of my trousers.
I planned on publishing this tale, perhaps on the internet or in some newspaper. I have to get it out there, but who would believe me without proof? But I will make sure it gets out, somehow.
Before I left Rome, I asked a boy from the streets to visit the entrance of the tunnels, but he told me that the statues had disappeared and the ground was covered by tons of rubble, making me leave Italy somewhat relieved. But in the following days, when I was safe at home, nightmares started to tear away at the last bit of sanity I had left.