Narrator

As we moved slowly through the tunnels again, the beams of our flashlights revealed familiar corridors, now strangely harmless under the glow of bright LED bulbs. When we reached the chapel, my heart skipped sharply. On the wall near where we had discovered the old notebook was a fresh carving. It stood out clearly against the older scratches, deep and jagged, the edges rough with brick dust.

I still breathe. Below it, scratched faintly, almost gently, I read my own full name. I've spent more of my life underground than I'd like to admit. It started as a teenage dare, exploring drainage tunnels, abandoned mines, and the forgotten corridors beneath our quiet town in northern Pennsylvania. My friends Trevor and Zeke were always with me.

I still breathe. Below it, scratched faintly, almost gently, I read my own full name. I've spent more of my life underground than I'd like to admit. It started as a teenage dare, exploring drainage tunnels, abandoned mines, and the forgotten corridors beneath our quiet town in northern Pennsylvania. My friends Trevor and Zeke were always with me.

Addicted to the rush of squeezing through tight spaces and the strange allure of places no one was ever meant to see. But over the years, adulthood happened, and our expeditions became rare. Jobs, families, responsibilities, life pulled us apart. It was Trevor who suggested one last exploration, a final nostalgic crawl.

Addicted to the rush of squeezing through tight spaces and the strange allure of places no one was ever meant to see. But over the years, adulthood happened, and our expeditions became rare. Jobs, families, responsibilities, life pulled us apart. It was Trevor who suggested one last exploration, a final nostalgic crawl.

He mentioned a drainpipe he'd spotted a couple years ago in Wildcat Hollow, a remote forested area near Tioga State Forest. It had been poking out of a steep hillside, partially hidden by trees and bushes, forgotten and rusted. Curiosity reignited the fire, and we quickly agreed. The forest around Wildcat Hollow felt thicker than usual as we hiked in.

He mentioned a drainpipe he'd spotted a couple years ago in Wildcat Hollow, a remote forested area near Tioga State Forest. It had been poking out of a steep hillside, partially hidden by trees and bushes, forgotten and rusted. Curiosity reignited the fire, and we quickly agreed. The forest around Wildcat Hollow felt thicker than usual as we hiked in.

It was late afternoon, with sunlight filtering weakly through a dense canopy. Moss-covered stones lined the ground, and the air carried that familiar damp, earthy smell we knew all too well. Finally, Trevor pointed ahead. I squinted to see a dull glint of corrugated metal, half buried and cloaked in vines.

It was late afternoon, with sunlight filtering weakly through a dense canopy. Moss-covered stones lined the ground, and the air carried that familiar damp, earthy smell we knew all too well. Finally, Trevor pointed ahead. I squinted to see a dull glint of corrugated metal, half buried and cloaked in vines.

this has to be it trevor said clearing brush aside zeke looked hesitant but nodded we unpacked our headlamps and tested them the beams flickered weakly in the daylight hardly comforting then one by one we crawled inside The pipe was narrower than it looked. My elbows scraped against the rusted walls as I crawled on hands and knees. Immediately the temperature dropped, the air heavy and stale.

this has to be it trevor said clearing brush aside zeke looked hesitant but nodded we unpacked our headlamps and tested them the beams flickered weakly in the daylight hardly comforting then one by one we crawled inside The pipe was narrower than it looked. My elbows scraped against the rusted walls as I crawled on hands and knees. Immediately the temperature dropped, the air heavy and stale.

Within a few dozen feet, daylight had entirely vanished behind us. We were submerged in complete darkness except for the thin cones of our lamps illuminating bits of rust, grime, and cobwebs. "'How far does this go?' Zeke whispered, his voice echoing weirdly. "'About six hundred feet to a junction,' Trevor answered quietly, leading us deeper.

Within a few dozen feet, daylight had entirely vanished behind us. We were submerged in complete darkness except for the thin cones of our lamps illuminating bits of rust, grime, and cobwebs. "'How far does this go?' Zeke whispered, his voice echoing weirdly. "'About six hundred feet to a junction,' Trevor answered quietly, leading us deeper.

I tried to focus only on the rhythm of crawling, ignoring how tight and oppressive the walls felt around me. We pressed on in silence, breaths loud and shallow in the enclosed space. The pipe seemed to narrow gradually, pushing down on my shoulders, squeezing until my heart pounded.

I tried to focus only on the rhythm of crawling, ignoring how tight and oppressive the walls felt around me. We pressed on in silence, breaths loud and shallow in the enclosed space. The pipe seemed to narrow gradually, pushing down on my shoulders, squeezing until my heart pounded.

Claustrophobia was always there, lurking, but something felt especially off this time, more than usual anxiety, deeper. Finally, after what seemed like forever, we spilled out into a larger concrete room, a junction point typical of storm drains. Circular walls stretched upward to a rusted manhole cover far above, dripping water forming puddles on the floor.

Claustrophobia was always there, lurking, but something felt especially off this time, more than usual anxiety, deeper. Finally, after what seemed like forever, we spilled out into a larger concrete room, a junction point typical of storm drains. Circular walls stretched upward to a rusted manhole cover far above, dripping water forming puddles on the floor.

I inhaled deeply, relieved to stretch out, and turned slowly, illuminating three smaller pipes branching off. "'Looks like we've got options,' Trevor said nervously. One pipe was marked with a faded splash of red paint, probably left by a maintenance crew decades ago. Another looked partially collapsed." The third was small but open, just barely wide enough to slither through on your stomach.

I inhaled deeply, relieved to stretch out, and turned slowly, illuminating three smaller pipes branching off. "'Looks like we've got options,' Trevor said nervously. One pipe was marked with a faded splash of red paint, probably left by a maintenance crew decades ago. Another looked partially collapsed." The third was small but open, just barely wide enough to slither through on your stomach.

Zeke eyed it warily. I'm not sure, Zeke started. Come on, Zeke, Trevor laughed softly, forcing enthusiasm. We used to do way worse than this. Zeke hesitated, then sighed, giving in. Fine, I'll lead this one, but if it gets any tighter I'm turning around. Deal, I whispered back.