The guide raised a lantern to light up the path in front. There was nothing but darkness in the distance. A line of people followed behind. Nobody spoke. We didn’t think it would be like this.
The sound of dripping water and our footsteps on the damp floor were the only things I heard.
Nervous murmurings came from behind and I knew they felt anxious, too. Shivering involuntarily, I gazed ahead, praying to see a distant pinpoint of light.
“Is it much farther?” I asked the man who illuminated our way.
“Not long. You’ll see the exit as we turn this corner.”
Someone relayed the information further back.
The bricks rising each side of the tunnel were arm’s span in width. It looked decrepit and glistened with moisture. I tried not to think of the creatures that lived inside this underground passage. I drew a sharp intake of breath and felt a ripple of goosebumps run over my shoulders.
Finally, a small glimmer of light appeared and grew bigger as we moved forward. The relief came in soft sighs from behind.
The tunnel turned brighter and opened into a small cave. We could hear the sounds of waves on the shoreline. Before long, we were all congregated on the sand.
Doors clanged as our guide locked away the concealed tunnels.
We made our way to the bus that would take us back to the manor house where we could get a cup of tea, browse the gift shop, and recover from our excursion.
©Karen J. Mossman
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