I live in a small house that is located next to a forest so that nothing would break the quiet of my days. I bought it dirt cheap as nobody wanted to live in “that shit hole”, where the nearest store is located within 40 minutes walk and you need to use firewood in winter. But the story is not about my life decisions, so I’ll cut the crap for you.
After several years of fixing and shaping up the shack, it finally began to resemble a living place. It came with a plot, and boy, clearing it out from the rocks and fallen trees - that was something. So the other day after finally finishing with the last boulder - I borrowed a lawn mover from one of my neighbors to add a chef’s touch to my “lawn” if I can call it that.
It was an old model that weighed a ton and was quite a capricious pile of cogs and screws but it did the job right. And there I was - riding the buzzing pile of metal, sipping my beer, and having a good time. Up to a point when I wondered for a mere second why was the horizon tilted and the next moment all hell broke loose. Quite literally: the lawn mover made a sneezing sound couple of times until it finally stalled and then the ground beneath it opened up, sending us flying down.
The pain in the crotch hit by a seat was my first sensation, understanding I’m sitting in complete darkness - the second, and the cherry on top - a realization that I’ll have to get this pile of junk out somehow.
But then it came to me that my surroundings are somewhat unexpected. Was it an old underground stream that dried up, leaving this cavern behind? Or maybe an old wartime tunnel everybody forgot about?
I tried to illuminate the place with my lighter but couldn’t see shit, and just then I realized that the lawn mover had headlights. Well, the headlight, actually as one of them was not working. But It was enough to see my surroundings - the moss-covered walls made of cobblestone. And the path continued forth, according to my impression - leading somewhere beneath the forest.
Two thoughts came at the same time: “you need a portable flashlight” and second - “Bob, you might get rich!”. If this is some forgotten underground Nazi thing - there could be artifacts that I could sell for great money to private collectors. And if it’s something even more ancient - we’re talking yachts and champagne baths here. Yeah, I had no intention to notify the authorities and all that crap, because why would I? To get my name in the papers and the pat on the back from the museum keepers? I was keeping my discovery to myself and guys with big bucks, alright?
So I went back to the house: climbing out was not a joke, as the earth kept crumbling down, but soon enough I found a sturdy edge. Picked up some rope, some light, and a bag, and went deep to explore my treasures.
The path continued for around 300 meters, made a left turn, finishing up with a chamber. I found myself standing at the entrance of a large circular room with a massive stone slab in the middle. I’m not an expert, but the white pale stone looked like marble to me, carved with hundreds if not thousands of symbols. Never seen those before, but don’t blame me - blame my education. It seemed that the stone plate was covering something buried deeper into the ground. What could it be? A sarcophagus? Or another passage to a treasure room, maybe?
I raised my flashlight to look around and almost yipped instantly: the walls of the room kept a nasty surprise. It came as a bunch of skeletons positioned alongside the perimeter of the chamber as if watching closely, judging my actions.
There were 12 of them in total: well preserved, wearing pieces of decayed rags, some of them missing a limb or two. The most intriguing part was their skulls - each one had some sort of a symbol, or a rune carved out on the forehead. Again - never seen shit like this before, but I can bet those were resembling the ones on the stone slab.
So I guess this stuff was supposed to scare the crap out of guys like me, who found the room out of the blue.
But what could they do? They’re dead and I was about to get filthy rich. Could it be that I found the grave of the chieftain, perhaps? I watched a movie on Discovery about this custom in the old times, where the warriors would sacrifice themselves to support their leader on the other side. Anyways, they could be also guarding some sacred thing or whatever - I had to look inside.
And I tried to move the slab but after several attempts - it was clear that the thing is too heavy. Without giving it a second thought - I went home to pick up a crowbar and some other tools. But, yeah, you’ve guessed it - not much luck. Lifting it with a crowbar seemed impossible. I mean several people could probably do the trick, but no sharing in my house, okay?
Using a hammer and a chisel just scratched the stone a little and I should never have used the sledgehammer on the thing: a strike just resonated with painful trembling in my arms, leaving nothing but a tiny dent on the slab. As if the thing was not made of an old piece of rock but from steel, they use to reinforce the jets.
But I had a couple of ideas. My friend Mick was a fisherman and he preferred, let’s say, non-traditional approaches to catching his food. So I would call him and ask for a couple of “fishing sticks” to borrow if you know what I mean. I bet this would do the trick.
And so - I climbed out again, used some branches and leaves to hide the entrance to my treasure chamber, gave Mick a call, and went to sleep, anticipating tomorrow’s outcome.
That night I had the strangest dream in my life: I was wandering around some amorphous landscapes, with mountains and molten sun. The grass beneath my bare feet felt metallic to touch, but I didn’t cut myself, surprisingly. The trees were porous and as if made of cobwebs and moss. Finally, I approached a figure, wearing a white hooded robe. I touched it by the shoulder and it slowly turned around, revealing the face…
I woke up in cold sweat standing on the edge of the pit in my backyard. That was unexpected. I mean, yeah, I had some sleepwalking episodes in the past, but never since I moved here. Well, probably this whole excitement triggered me again. To hell with it - I went to bed again.
The next morning, I checked the hidden passage through my kitchen window, chomped a sandwich, and rushed to Mick’s place. If I’m living in a shit hole, boy, you wouldn’t like his place at all.
I’ll cut to the point: A couple of hours later we grabbed some beers, I grabbed a pack of TNT and was heading back to blow the shit up. As my truck turned to the gravel road leading to my house - I understood that something was wrong. So I rushed at full speed to check the backyard.
Sticks and branches were scattered around revealing the passage. What? Some fuckers wanted a piece of me? I was about to get them some.
I grabbed the flashlight and jumped down, cursing under my breath.
“Hey, shitheads! This is private property…” - I shouted as I came closer to the chamber.
But surprisingly, no one was there. Just my skeletal friends by the walls and the slab on the…
What? I couldn’t believe my eyes - the marble lid was placed aside, revealing the area beneath.
No gold, no jewels, no ancient stuff or anything. I took a closer look and a sudden realization made me back off. Within the marble box hidden in the ground, there were dozens and dozens of mummified creatures: rats, frogs, snakes, bats, and other critters. They were completely dried out, and as the horrible vision stood before my eyes - I recall that every single dead body had a hole in it, as if something pierced it.
But what’s even scarier - the mass of the dry dead bodies formed a dent in the middle of the box, just like the packing foam embraces the item in your parcels, but made of flesh and bone. Something was lying inside, pulling its knees to its chin, having the arms crossed on the chest, and the second pair of hands stretching to the sides of its coffin. Or was the body moved ages ago, as somebody discovered it? Anyways, the thing was empty and dead rats wouldn’t cost a penny.
I was robbed. I can’t prove it, but I guess the guy who borrowed me the lawn mover stopped by to check if I still need it, found the hole and I suppose was heading to Hawaii now, with all the money he’d get for all the shinies he found on the corpse.
I couldn’t find any decent footprints or other traces that would lead me to the culprit, so yeah, I fucked up.
And my head is killing me. Probably due to all this stress - my headaches happen mostly on daily basis now.
Gladly the fucking birds stopped chirping all the time. I guess autumn sent them flying fuck away from here. Yeah, most likely.
But the nighttime is the worst. I keep seeing that dream with the molten sun and the iron grass. And that thing tries to tell me something, but each time I wake up at the edge of the pit. As if my brain tries to tell me something. It wants me to get down, I hear the whispers. He promises to watch my sleep. The dried skin rustles just like the crisp sheets.
Each time I wake up later and later in the day. I should probably seek medical help, but I’m too sleepy to drive. I’m scared. Help.