u/ComprehensiveTone787

Hi guys, just popping in to share more of my own cave experiences here. On the tour of the cave, there was a chamber with another sealed chamber underneath it. The tour guide asked if any kids wanted to try jumping, and I myself felt the urge to step hard on it. The cavernous echo of your footsteps resonating beneath you is quite unsettling, knowing that if the ground gives way, there’s a long fall ahead.

The next chamber of the cave was a stark contrast. There was a pool that perfectly reflected the ceiling, and it seemed to stretch on endlessly. The stillness of the cave felt wrong, as if I didn’t belong in the lifeless caverns. I can’t stop thinking about the fate of this lost expedition every night since I first read this journal.

May 23rd, 4:38 am

None of us slept last night. Jeff would cry out in pain if he rolled over to his left side. Carlos had nightmares and would wake up screaming in cold sweat. This morning, they both say they’re fine to push on.

Carlos did say we should turn back. We wanted to push on a little further. Again, Sarah agreed that we should, but we voted to press on, at least until noon. Jeff knows there’s something more to be discovered in this cave, more artifacts of an undocumented people. I have to agree with him, and he passed Sarah’s makeshift physical.

May 23rd, 7:16 am

Shit. Carlos has run off. He saw something, a rock in the shadows, probably. Sarah took off alone after him. We had to split; Jeff can’t keep up with a chase. Sarah said to wait here.

May 23rd, 7:56 am

We’ve explored a little of the immediate area. Anything to keep our minds off the sound of a faint, echoed scream that tears through the cave. We found more paintings on the walls here.

Jeff says these paintings reminded him of the Skadegamutc. The proportions are off, I said, but he said that’s normal for cave paintings. It looked gaunt, barely more defined than a single streak of paint, with a smear of red where its eyes should have been.

May 23rd, 12:23 pm

I heard it first, I yelled, and got Jeff and Emily over to me. The room suddenly came to life, the walls vibrating around us. Pebbles fell from the ceiling first, as a deafening sound filled our ears. The ceiling crashed down, and a scream filled the room after.

Sarah had fallen through the roof of the cavern and landed with Carlos underneath her, and a piece of ceiling had crushed her leg.

We pulled an unconscious Carlos out from under her and tied his hands and feet upon her request.

It took the three of us to lift the rock just enough for Sarah to pull her mangled leg out from under the rock.

The path back doesn’t exist anymore. We can’t climb back up either. If there's any hope of escaping, it’s moving forward, and Sarah can’t walk.

May 23rd, 1:36 pm

Carlos is awake. He screamed first and then apologized. He’s been muttering that it’s all his fault ever since. He doesn’t stop.

We’ve patched up Sarah's leg the best we can. It took up just about every first aid item we had. The four of us have agreed, we press on. There’s no choice. I’ll help Sarah, while Emily and Jeff make sure Carlos doesn’t take off again. We’ve had to cut his feet free, but his hands are still bound.

May 23rd, 3:43 pm

Emily’s sonar was broken in the collapse. We have no way to tell if a path turns into a dead end now. We’re wandering these caves blind as moles. We’ve already had to turn around twice.

Carlos broke his muttering to say, “The cave won’t let us leave. The caves consumed us already; now it just waits to digest us.” and then he went back to his usual repetition of, “We should have turned back. No one believed me. I should’ve said more. It’s all my fault.” I think Carlos has broken.

May 23rd, 9:16 pm

Emily’s map makes no sense. We’re back at the cave in. Her map says we shouldn’t even have been traveling back this way. She must have copied something wrong. I can’t fault her; we’re all working blind here.

We need to rest. We brought enough food for 3 extra days in case something happened, but we’re mostly in agreement that we should start rationing. I said that we needed the food for the strength to keep exploring. A 3 to 1 vote says we don’t eat tonight, though.

We already know we won't sleep tonight.

To the reader, know that I do not write this to vindicate myself. The wrongdoings I have committed are mine to bear. I simply wish that I might be able to prevent the outcome that I’ve found myself in.

I remember walking into that bookstore, as I had many times before. It was just another day of work for me, sitting at the counter and welcoming people who came in. The lo-fi beats came through my computer speakers, and the wax melter filled the store with lavender.

It wasn’t long before a customer walked in. He was a regular, and he came around this same time every day. My gaze followed him lazily as he browsed the shelves, looking for his next new read.

He walked past a book I had never seen before. It’s not unusual for new books to be on display; vendors often come in and showcase new publications. This book was solid black, save for the green lettering that covered it. Something called me to that book. Maybe it was curiosity, but likely it was something darker.

I waited for my regular to find his new material. I checked out his book. “A Guide To Cooking, huh? Looking to try out some new recipes today?” I asked, trying to make my usual attempt at small talk.

“Yeah, I guess so,” was all he said. He was never much of a talker, unless something particularly piqued his interest. He grabbed his book and walked out the door.

“Have a nice day!” I called after him. I heard the bell on the door jingle, and again I was alone in the store. I looked at the book once again. I can see the green text on the cover so vividly in my memory, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it said. I remember that it had no author on the cover. I thought this was weird. Why would the author not want credit for their writing?

I went back to my normal tasks. I wiped down the counters and shelves. I swept the floors and reorganized the books. I scrolled mindlessly on my phone while I waited for customers. My mind kept going back to that plain black book, though. There was something about it that intrigued me.

I decided to go look at it. It felt heavier than it should. And warm. It felt so warm, as if there was an energy emanating from it. The book itself felt… wrong. I don’t know how else to describe it, but a book shouldn’t feel warm to the touch like that.

I quickly put the book down and went back to scrolling on my phone. Another customer walked in shortly. They walked past the book without a glance. Sure, it doesn’t have any catchy cover art or a renowned author's name, but it seems so out of place on display. I started to ask myself if I was the only person who noticed the book.

“Hey, uh… where’s the manga at?” I sighed audibly, looking up from my phone. The kid was maybe thirteen to fifteen, I wasn’t good at gauging ages. “Well?” He asked impatiently.

“It’s in the back left of the store.” I pointed in the general direction. He walked off, and I went back to my phone. A few more customers walked in, the bell alerting me to each one of their presences. I watched each one of them walk past the book on display without even glancing at it.

The kid was back with his stack of mangas, which were clearly meant for a more mature audience. “Hey, kid, are you even allowed to be reading these?” I asked.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, loser. Just ring out my mangas already.” Whatever, I rolled my eyes and took his money. I didn’t get paid enough to moderate what he reads.

As customers came and went, I found myself often drifting back to that book. No one looked at it. No one picked it up and felt its unnatural warmth. Everyone ignored it, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even now, as I’m writing this, I can feel it calling to me still.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked over and grabbed the book off its display stand. I carried it with me back to my counter, and I opened it, trying to be discreet about it. I opened it to the first page, and I felt the energy flow into my hands. I saw images of creatures flying around, screeching in some alien language. Creatures that now haunt me. The noises they make are unintelligible, and yet, somehow, I can understand them at the same time.

I felt the ground shake beneath me as I gazed into the book, yet no one around me made any indication of feeling the same thing. Everyone continued around me as I read… what did I read? I can’t remember a single word that was on those pages. All I can remember is the feeling.

“Hello? You there? Ground Control to Major Tom.” The voice of a concerned customer pulled me out of the trance I was trapped in. A line of three customers had formed. “You seemed pretty into that book.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said nervously. How could a book take that much attention from me? That wasn’t me spacing out from getting too involved in something. No less than fifteen minutes had passed by while I was in that trance, and I apparently never even flipped a page.

I quickly rang out the customers, apologizing to each one and thanking them for their patience. “Don’t worry about it,” a girl said, “happens to me all the time. I once burned my dinner so bad it set off the smoke detector and called the fire department for me.”

Once all of the customers were out, I closed up the shop for my lunch break. I pulled out the book again. I felt a sense of dread mixed with morbid curiosity as I opened the book again. The same flow of energy ran into me, pulling me further into the book. I felt words echo in my head, and I unwittingly repeated them in my trance-like state. They felt strangely familiar, as if it were a lullaby I had heard as an infant. I can’t remember now what they were, nor would I write them if I could. I remember that they were strange words, ones that didn’t make sense. Yet I repeated those same foreign but familiar words.

I head breaking glass as soon as I finished them. I jumped up and looked around, and to my horror, I saw a crack. Not in a window, or a mirror, no, I saw the first crack in reality. The bookshelf that had been there was split in two, perfectly bifurcated on either side of it. The crack was thin, but ran the length of my whole field of vision. What lay behind it was incomprehensible.

The crack widened. I heard it before I saw it, but it was growing. Widening. The bookshelf that was on the other side grew further and further apart. It wasn’t blocking the bookshelf; it simply split it. A moving object would go from one side of the crack to the other unphased, as if it weren’t there. As if only I could perceive it. But it was there.

Again, the crack grew, and I could see a full view into the other world. God, the sound the crack made. I saw those winged creatures. At first, they flew by, completely oblivious. But then, they noticed me. One of them stopped, and it stared straight into my soul. I heard it’s screech for the first time. The cracking sound, along with the screeching, was so much that I collapsed to the floor, begging to wake up from this nightmare, but it wouldn’t end.

I saw visions of temples in green skies, the green sun beating down. Then I saw nights with shining stars like holes punched through a purple silk sheet. I saw sacrifices to a god, not in thankfulness but in fear. A god so terrible it would desecrate a civilization in an instant if it were not satiated.

The creature came closer to the crack, which was now spiderwebbing outward. It looked at me with a strange curiosity, as others like it came to gather around. And then, it reached through the crack. It reached through, and it touched me. Its cold grasp grabbed me by the arm and pulled me against the crack. I felt reality straining against the pressure of this creature. I fought it, but it was so strong. I heard the literal fabric of reality groan and creak before shattering as I was pulled through the crack. I watched in a strange horror as the bookstore I once knew fell around me in a rain of glass-like shards, sparkling and shimmering until they dissipated into nothingness.

I saw before me the temple of my nightmares. It was grander than any vision I could have perceived, and the power of its deity emanated from it. I knew already what my fate would be, as the greenish sun was setting on the world. The sky faded to purple as I was forced to enter the tunnel. I was thrown in a cell to wait.

There was a crack inside the cell, and through it I could see a younger version of myself. One from before I ever worked at that cursed bookstore. It wasn’t large enough to escape through, but I could throw a book through, perhaps. So, I wrote this, awaiting to be a sacrifice to an unholy abomination, potentially the incarnation of evil itself, hoping maybe I can change the future for you. Maybe you, another version of myself, can escape from this timeline. Do not ever accept that job at the bookstore. And if you see that black book, for the sake of all of causality, do not touch it. Run, run as if the whole world depends on it. Hopefully, it won’t be too late for you.

To the reader, know that I do not write this to vindicate myself. The wrongdoings I have committed are mine to bear. I simply wish that I might be able to prevent the outcome that I’ve found myself in.

I remember walking into that bookstore, as I had many times before. It was just another day of work for me, sitting at the counter and welcoming people who came in. The lo-fi beats came through my computer speakers, and the wax melter filled the store with lavender.

It wasn’t long before a customer walked in. He was a regular, and he came around this same time every day. My gaze followed him lazily as he browsed the shelves, looking for his next new read.

He walked past a book I had never seen before. It’s not unusual for new books to be on display; vendors often come in and showcase new publications. This book was solid black, save for the green lettering that covered it. Something called me to that book. Maybe it was curiosity, but likely it was something darker.

I waited for my regular to find his new material. I checked out his book. “A Guide To Cooking, huh? Looking to try out some new recipes today?” I asked, trying to make my usual attempt at small talk.

“Yeah, I guess so,” was all he said. He was never much of a talker, unless something particularly piqued his interest. He grabbed his book and walked out the door.

“Have a nice day!” I called after him. I heard the bell on the door jingle, and again I was alone in the store. I looked at the book once again. I can see the green text on the cover so vividly in my memory, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it said. I remember that it had no author on the cover. I thought this was weird. Why would the author not want credit for their writing?

I went back to my normal tasks. I wiped down the counters and shelves. I swept the floors and reorganized the books. I scrolled mindlessly on my phone while I waited for customers. My mind kept going back to that plain black book, though. There was something about it that intrigued me.

I decided to go look at it. It felt heavier than it should. And warm. It felt so warm, as if there was an energy emanating from it. The book itself felt… wrong. I don’t know how else to describe it, but a book shouldn’t feel warm to the touch like that.

I quickly put the book down and went back to scrolling on my phone. Another customer walked in shortly. They walked past the book without a glance. Sure, it doesn’t have any catchy cover art or a renowned author's name, but it seems so out of place on display. I started to ask myself if I was the only person who noticed the book.

“Hey, uh… where’s the manga at?” I sighed audibly, looking up from my phone. The kid was maybe thirteen to fifteen, I wasn’t good at gauging ages. “Well?” He asked impatiently.

“It’s in the back left of the store.” I pointed in the general direction. He walked off, and I went back to my phone. A few more customers walked in, the bell alerting me to each one of their presences. I watched each one of them walk past the book on display without even glancing at it.

The kid was back with his stack of mangas, which were clearly meant for a more mature audience. “Hey, kid, are you even allowed to be reading these?” I asked.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, loser. Just ring out my mangas already.” Whatever, I rolled my eyes and took his money. I didn’t get paid enough to moderate what he reads.

As customers came and went, I found myself often drifting back to that book. No one looked at it. No one picked it up and felt its unnatural warmth. Everyone ignored it, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even now, as I’m writing this, I can feel it calling to me still.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked over and grabbed the book off its display stand. I carried it with me back to my counter, and I opened it, trying to be discreet about it. I opened it to the first page, and I felt the energy flow into my hands. I saw images of creatures flying around, screeching in some alien language. Creatures that now haunt me. The noises they make are unintelligible, and yet, somehow, I can understand them at the same time.

I felt the ground shake beneath me as I gazed into the book, yet no one around me made any indication of feeling the same thing. Everyone continued around me as I read… what did I read? I can’t remember a single word that was on those pages. All I can remember is the feeling.

“Hello? You there? Ground Control to Major Tom.” The voice of a concerned customer pulled me out of the trance I was trapped in. A line of three customers had formed. “You seemed pretty into that book.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said nervously. How could a book take that much attention from me? That wasn’t me spacing out from getting too involved in something. No less than fifteen minutes had passed by while I was in that trance, and I apparently never even flipped a page.

I quickly rang out the customers, apologizing to each one and thanking them for their patience. “Don’t worry about it,” a girl said, “happens to me all the time. I once burned my dinner so bad it set off the smoke detector and called the fire department for me.”

Once all of the customers were out, I closed up the shop for my lunch break. I pulled out the book again. I felt a sense of dread mixed with morbid curiosity as I opened the book again. The same flow of energy ran into me, pulling me further into the book. I felt words echo in my head, and I unwittingly repeated them in my trance-like state. They felt strangely familiar, as if it were a lullaby I had heard as an infant. I can’t remember now what they were, nor would I write them if I could. I remember that they were strange words, ones that didn’t make sense. Yet I repeated those same foreign but familiar words.

I head breaking glass as soon as I finished them. I jumped up and looked around, and to my horror, I saw a crack. Not in a window, or a mirror, no, I saw the first crack in reality. The bookshelf that had been there was split in two, perfectly bifurcated on either side of it. The crack was thin, but ran the length of my whole field of vision. What lay behind it was incomprehensible.

The crack widened. I heard it before I saw it, but it was growing. Widening. The bookshelf that was on the other side grew further and further apart. It wasn’t blocking the bookshelf; it simply split it. A moving object would go from one side of the crack to the other unphased, as if it weren’t there. As if only I could perceive it. But it was there.

Again, the crack grew, and I could see a full view into the other world. God, the sound the crack made. I saw those winged creatures. At first, they flew by, completely oblivious. But then, they noticed me. One of them stopped, and it stared straight into my soul. I heard it’s screech for the first time. The cracking sound, along with the screeching, was so much that I collapsed to the floor, begging to wake up from this nightmare, but it wouldn’t end.

I saw visions of temples in green skies, the green sun beating down. Then I saw nights with shining stars like holes punched through a purple silk sheet. I saw sacrifices to a god, not in thankfulness but in fear. A god so terrible it would desecrate a civilization in an instant if it were not satiated.

The creature came closer to the crack, which was now spiderwebbing outward. It looked at me with a strange curiosity, as others like it came to gather around. And then, it reached through the crack. It reached through, and it touched me. Its cold grasp grabbed me by the arm and pulled me against the crack. I felt reality straining against the pressure of this creature. I fought it, but it was so strong. I heard the literal fabric of reality groan and creak before shattering as I was pulled through the crack. I watched in a strange horror as the bookstore I once knew fell around me in a rain of glass-like shards, sparkling and shimmering until they dissipated into nothingness.

I saw before me the temple of my nightmares. It was grander than any vision I could have perceived, and the power of its deity emanated from it. I knew already what my fate would be, as the greenish sun was setting on the world. The sky faded to purple as I was forced to enter the tunnel. I was thrown in a cell to wait.

There was a crack inside the cell, and through it I could see a younger version of myself. One from before I ever worked at that cursed bookstore. It wasn’t large enough to escape through, but I could throw a book through, perhaps. So, I wrote this, awaiting to be a sacrifice to an unholy abomination, potentially the incarnation of evil itself, hoping maybe I can change the future for you. Maybe you, another version of myself, can escape from this timeline. Do not ever accept that job at the bookstore. And if you see that black book, for the sake of all of causality, do not touch it. Run, run as if the whole world depends on it. Hopefully, it won’t be too late for you.

To the reader, know that I do not write this to vindicate myself. The wrongdoings I have committed are mine to bear. I simply wish that I might be able to prevent the outcome that I’ve found myself in.

I remember walking into that bookstore, as I had many times before. It was just another day of work for me, sitting at the counter and welcoming people who came in. The lo-fi beats came through my computer speakers, and the wax melter filled the store with lavender.

It wasn’t long before a customer walked in. He was a regular, and he came around this same time every day. My gaze followed him lazily as he browsed the shelves, looking for his next new read.

He walked past a book I had never seen before. It’s not unusual for new books to be on display; vendors often come in and showcase new publications. This book was solid black, save for the green lettering that covered it. Something called me to that book. Maybe it was curiosity, but likely it was something darker.

I waited for my regular to find his new material. I checked out his book. “A Guide To Cooking, huh? Looking to try out some new recipes today?” I asked, trying to make my usual attempt at small talk.

“Yeah, I guess so,” was all he said. He was never much of a talker, unless something particularly piqued his interest. He grabbed his book and walked out the door.

“Have a nice day!” I called after him. I heard the bell on the door jingle, and again I was alone in the store. I looked at the book once again. I can see the green text on the cover so vividly in my memory, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it said. I remember that it had no author on the cover. I thought this was weird. Why would the author not want credit for their writing?

I went back to my normal tasks. I wiped down the counters and shelves. I swept the floors and reorganized the books. I scrolled mindlessly on my phone while I waited for customers. My mind kept going back to that plain black book, though. There was something about it that intrigued me.

I decided to go look at it. It felt heavier than it should. And warm. It felt so warm, as if there was an energy emanating from it. The book itself felt… wrong. I don’t know how else to describe it, but a book shouldn’t feel warm to the touch like that.

I quickly put the book down and went back to scrolling on my phone. Another customer walked in shortly. They walked past the book without a glance. Sure, it doesn’t have any catchy cover art or a renowned author's name, but it seems so out of place on display. I started to ask myself if I was the only person who noticed the book.

“Hey, uh… where’s the manga at?” I sighed audibly, looking up from my phone. The kid was maybe thirteen to fifteen, I wasn’t good at gauging ages. “Well?” He asked impatiently.

“It’s in the back left of the store.” I pointed in the general direction. He walked off, and I went back to my phone. A few more customers walked in, the bell alerting me to each one of their presences. I watched each one of them walk past the book on display without even glancing at it.

The kid was back with his stack of mangas, which were clearly meant for a more mature audience. “Hey, kid, are you even allowed to be reading these?” I asked.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, loser. Just ring out my mangas already.” Whatever, I rolled my eyes and took his money. I didn’t get paid enough to moderate what he reads.

As customers came and went, I found myself often drifting back to that book. No one looked at it. No one picked it up and felt its unnatural warmth. Everyone ignored it, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even now, as I’m writing this, I can feel it calling to me still.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked over and grabbed the book off its display stand. I carried it with me back to my counter, and I opened it, trying to be discreet about it. I opened it to the first page, and I felt the energy flow into my hands. I saw images of creatures flying around, screeching in some alien language. Creatures that now haunt me. The noises they make are unintelligible, and yet, somehow, I can understand them at the same time.

I felt the ground shake beneath me as I gazed into the book, yet no one around me made any indication of feeling the same thing. Everyone continued around me as I read… what did I read? I can’t remember a single word that was on those pages. All I can remember is the feeling.

“Hello? You there? Ground Control to Major Tom.” The voice of a concerned customer pulled me out of the trance I was trapped in. A line of three customers had formed. “You seemed pretty into that book.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said nervously. How could a book take that much attention from me? That wasn’t me spacing out from getting too involved in something. No less than fifteen minutes had passed by while I was in that trance, and I apparently never even flipped a page.

I quickly rang out the customers, apologizing to each one and thanking them for their patience. “Don’t worry about it,” a girl said, “happens to me all the time. I once burned my dinner so bad it set off the smoke detector and called the fire department for me.”

Once all of the customers were out, I closed up the shop for my lunch break. I pulled out the book again. I felt a sense of dread mixed with morbid curiosity as I opened the book again. The same flow of energy ran into me, pulling me further into the book. I felt words echo in my head, and I unwittingly repeated them in my trance-like state. They felt strangely familiar, as if it were a lullaby I had heard as an infant. I can’t remember now what they were, nor would I write them if I could. I remember that they were strange words, ones that didn’t make sense. Yet I repeated those same foreign but familiar words.

I head breaking glass as soon as I finished them. I jumped up and looked around, and to my horror, I saw a crack. Not in a window, or a mirror, no, I saw the first crack in reality. The bookshelf that had been there was split in two, perfectly bifurcated on either side of it. The crack was thin, but ran the length of my whole field of vision. What lay behind it was incomprehensible.

The crack widened. I heard it before I saw it, but it was growing. Widening. The bookshelf that was on the other side grew further and further apart. It wasn’t blocking the bookshelf; it simply split it. A moving object would go from one side of the crack to the other unphased, as if it weren’t there. As if only I could perceive it. But it was there.

Again, the crack grew, and I could see a full view into the other world. God, the sound the crack made. I saw those winged creatures. At first, they flew by, completely oblivious. But then, they noticed me. One of them stopped, and it stared straight into my soul. I heard it’s screech for the first time. The cracking sound, along with the screeching, was so much that I collapsed to the floor, begging to wake up from this nightmare, but it wouldn’t end.

I saw visions of temples in green skies, the green sun beating down. Then I saw nights with shining stars like holes punched through a purple silk sheet. I saw sacrifices to a god, not in thankfulness but in fear. A god so terrible it would desecrate a civilization in an instant if it were not satiated.

The creature came closer to the crack, which was now spiderwebbing outward. It looked at me with a strange curiosity, as others like it came to gather around. And then, it reached through the crack. It reached through, and it touched me. Its cold grasp grabbed me by the arm and pulled me against the crack. I felt reality straining against the pressure of this creature. I fought it, but it was so strong. I heard the literal fabric of reality groan and creak before shattering as I was pulled through the crack. I watched in a strange horror as the bookstore I once knew fell around me in a rain of glass-like shards, sparkling and shimmering until they dissipated into nothingness.

I saw before me the temple of my nightmares. It was grander than any vision I could have perceived, and the power of its deity emanated from it. I knew already what my fate would be, as the greenish sun was setting on the world. The sky faded to purple as I was forced to enter the tunnel. I was thrown in a cell to wait.

There was a crack inside the cell, and through it I could see a younger version of myself. One from before I ever worked at that cursed bookstore. It wasn’t large enough to escape through, but I could throw a book through, perhaps. So, I wrote this, awaiting to be a sacrifice to an unholy abomination, potentially the incarnation of evil itself, hoping maybe I can change the future for you. Maybe you, another version of myself, can escape from this timeline. Do not ever accept that job at the bookstore. And if you see that black book, for the sake of all of causality, do not touch it. Run, run as if the whole world depends on it. Hopefully, it won’t be too late for you.

Hey guys, on my last road trip, I drove through the Shenandoah Valley. It was beautiful, truly. I remembered stories from my family about the caverns beneath the mountains, and I wanted to see them for myself. I stopped in at one of the guided cavern tours, but it left me wanting more. 

I stopped at a rest stop on the highway after, and I noticed there was a cave not far off from the dog walking area. I know it’s dangerous to go without gear, especially with the wet red clay that runs through this region, and sure as hell it was slippery. I only had my flashlight with me, so I only went a little way in. I made sure there wasn’t even a challenge to get me out, and if I needed to call for help, someone would hear me from the surface.

I was only down in the cave for about 15 minutes total. I actually found a pack in the cave, which made me pretty nervous. I hope it was just forgotten or lost, and not that someone had been trapped in there. There was a flashlight, whose batteries were long since dead and corroded, some old, mildewed clothes, and a journal. Judging by the state of the pack, I figured the owner wasn’t coming back for it, so I took the journal with me. I thought maybe it would help me find the owner. 

In an attempt to convince myself that what I’ve read is true, I’ll transcribe what was written in the journal here.

May 10th
Finally. It’s finally happening. We’ve been asking for the funding for an expedition for so long, and we finally have it. We wanted a bigger team, but we really can only afford the gear for a team of 5. I’ve already been selected for the expedition, as well as Sarah. The other three spots are still open.

May 12th
Damn, Sarah was chosen to be the official expedition leader. I really wanted that position, but management decided she’s more level-headed in a crisis or something. They haven’t seen her when we are out of coffee in the breakroom, though.

We did get the list of our expedition mates today,y though. We will have our first team meeting tomorrow.

May 13th
That went… well, it could’ve been worse. Sarah made her introduction, then me, then the 3 new people. I’ve never met them before today. Basic notes to look back on:

Sarah. (Who I already know)
Apparently good in crises. 
The leader
Kinda small. That’s good, I guess.

Carlos
Wants to study the rocks. 
Shy, quiet guy. Probably will keep to himself.
Seems nervous about caves, has only done research in volcanic fields. 

Emily
Cannot contain her excitement. Kind of annoyingly, but I get it.
Good with the tech. Can use sonar to make maps. Also, can draw detailed maps.
Has been eyeing Jeff unprofessionally. 

Jeff
Anthropologist. 
Believes that native tribes might have used these caves.
Wants to find artifacts.
Loves to share his stories.

Yeah, we’re a pretty ragtag team, but I think we can accomplish something. I worry mostly about Carlos. We’ll be underground for days. I hope he isn’t a liability.

May 15th
We’ve been doing team-building exercises. Trust falls and name games, stuff management thinks fosters connection. Emily seemed pretty eager to fall into Jeff’s arms. She even pretended to faint. I rolled my eyes at Sarah, but she’s taking these exercises far more seriously than anyone else. Always the stick in the mud.

May 16th
Climbing practice went well. The three newbies didn’t fall behind at all. Of course, I reached the top first, and Sarah only glared at me in response. Everything is set to move forward in the schedule.

May 20th
Today, we took a preliminary scouting of the entrance. We only went a rope's distance in. No immediate hazards were spotted, though what lies deeper remains to be seen. We went through our supply packs today, for about the tenth time. Final check this time, though.

Everyone has a first aid kit, a survival knife, a week's worth of MREs (though we will only be down there for 3 days), an emergency rapid inflation device, an emergency oxygen mask with 5 refills, a sleeping bag, clothes, and as much water as we can reasonably carry. Emily has her mapping equipment, and there are a few magnifying glasses between us. Jeff has a book about cave painting, which he thought would be important to bring along too. We will set out tomorrow.
[end part one]