Three. |
Yebo good people!
At first I intended to make this post a themed one, but I'm first of all totally beat right now, and also sporting a nicotine-poisoning even Cthulhu speaks of with deepest respect.
First thing first.
For 18 years minus exactly one week I was living at this place, having this here weird concrete tunnel not far from where I lived. As kids, we visited the place several times during the rare occasions anyone of us actually got a hold of a (working) flashlight.... Yet, for 37 years, none of us ever went all the way through the entire tunnel - all we had was the rumours of what was on the other side. Someone said there was a humongous spiders-nest, someone else that there was a black room. Eventually, the hole making up the entrance to the tunnel, which is really not much more than a form of passage in-between a concrete wall, was almost entirely bricked up.
The thing with "almost" entirely bricked up wasn't exactly any less of a proof there was something funny and/or interesting on the other side, yet, it continued for miles and miles, and there were only so far we dared to walk, crossing over very unreliable rocks and stuff we didn't even wanna know what it was.
It was an exciting though scary place.
About a few weeks ago I returned on a whim. I figured this place, if it still existed, was far too good a location to not at least try to access. I considered several different alternatives to access it, everything from digging myself under the not very covering brick-up, to letting myself in using my...um...7kg iron key at the end of the 1m long Hickory-shaft. Make no mistake, there are nothing more sacred to me than other peoples safety, and other peoples property, in that order, but without getting into detail, neither was a problem on this very location.
Imagine of my surprise when I got there, and someone else had beaten me to it. There wasn't as much as a grain left to tell of the wall once covering the small crevasse. I was over-joyed!!! Happy as a pig in shit, I hid my stuff behind a nearby board, geared up, and began to climb down the cracked hole in the wall.
I took one look at the ceiling, and in two seconds I had gotten myself the fuck out of there again.
Being painfully aware that asbestos can be somehow less than exemplary for the health in general, I came to the mature decision to not do this without gas-mask and protective gear. There was a chance that the ceiling hadn't let off dust, but you had to be retarded to take a chance like that.