Although I couldn’t see, something told me that I definitely wasn’t alone in the cellar. What I did know was the feeling of the cold damp stone that made up the floors and walls, and the sound of water dripping from the ceiling, hitting the puddle it created on the floor. I believed at first that my eyes would adjust to the darkness of the cellar, but after some time I realized I wouldn’t be able to see my own hand, reaching to scratch my face, no matter how hard I tried to see it. I thought the low grumbling that I was hearing was that of my own stomach, but when the water that moistened the walls started scattering for it’s life, I knew someone, or something, was accompanying my stay. I refused to move for too long, but now it felt that my next decision would determine if I lived or died. If I stayed put I risk finding what was making a noise even water wished to escape from. And, the likelihood of me finding it is slim to none as I can’t even see my own hands. But if I move, I risk my position being compromised or running into something worse. Any creature living in this dark of an environment relies on sound and smell. Therefore, the splash of water as I race through puddles is sure to attract whatever it is I heard. And yet, if I remain where I am, my scent will surely guide it in my direction as it gobbles up a sitting duck. I decide to escape as quietly as I can. I get up, feeling for the walls of the cave and start walking in the opposite direction of the grumbling and groans. My hand, patting at the wall like airport security, comes across a wooden rod protruding from the stone—a lever of some sort. I pull down on the lever, hoping for the best. Then the sound of a metal gate being lifted open echos through the cellar.

“There goes my cover” I say out loud.

I walk to my right where I believed the gate opened and I walk into a hallway of some sort. Still darker than ever, I run with my hands stretched in front of me hoping I don’t face plant into a wall. I run for a good two minutes until I kick an elevated step and tumble forward. I land on stone stairs, my body feeling very sore. As I get up I hear the grumbling has been following me. I panic and limp up the stair as fast as possible.

“This is it. I’m done for” I think to myself.

I continue running up the stairs, my body feeling a little better now. The stairs are as dark as the place I was before. And because it was so dark I couldn’t see the hatch that closed the stairs off to the outside world and smashed into it with full confidence it wasn’t there. I fall back, tumbling down stairs until I am stopped by a tall figure that blocks the rest of the fall. The figure grumbles low, just like I heard before and spits, “where do you think you’re going?” In a gargled hideous voice. He grabs me by the hair and drags me down the rest of the stairs and back to where I presume was my starting point.

“This is where I keep you. This is where you’ll stay” he gargles and spits. Then he walks away, leaving me to sit in the cold, damp cellar with nothing but the thought of how I almost escaped.