text: I read all the horror stories about being lost underground, and have seen all the movies. I always said that they were dumb as heck, it was their own fault for going down there. They should have known better, and I vowed to never put myself in that silly situation, yearning to breathe free above the surface. It didn't help that we lived near a huge cave system, literally at the bottom of a local mountain and an ancient river had cut holes all through the ground. People came from all over to explore, and we even had a minor celebrity or two lose their lives in our soil. Most of the town worked year round in the businesses of serving tourists. Highly prepared, generally, and with an air of self confidence and athletic builds (those all seemed so unafraid of the business in which they were engaged- diving into the pitch dark, squeezing through narrow corridors hundreds of feet beneath our toes). I would have moved to get away from the whole scene, but my house was cheap, and the neighbors were nice, I'd lived in the town my whole life. Nobody ever fell into a sink hole and ended up in a cave there at least. My friends, I'd likewise known for most of my life, and we enjoyed frequent drinking, and it led to a couple nights where I woke up without any memory of the evening before. I always ended up safely in bed, or sometimes passed out on my floor (with the sunlight streaming in directly strong and causing a full brain pounding headache), or in strangers porch (twice), or in a the town jails drunk cell (on one fateful Friday) when we stayed past last call at the neighborhood bar and upset the staff. My friends were likewise heavy drinkers and they also had nights where they blacked out drunk, we just took it as normal Fridays, and laughed about our debauchery as we regaled each other with stories of past weekends. I felt that the ground was calling out to me for a couple of weeks before the incident. I would hear whispers when I was driving by the parking lot to one of the most visited caves (which opened into a complex system), and I dreamed that I was walking near the mouth of a great cave, with stalagmites bearing out like giant teeth. I thought nothing of it, not believing in prophecies like any logical 21st century man, but one dream was so bad I couldn't fall asleep the rest of the night. I had a flashlight in that dream, and I walked into the cave, and it was full of monsters. I awoke in a cold fright, and felt them in the room with me, I had to turn on the lights, and when I closed my eyes I felt their hot breath and heard their ragged breathing. The next Friday, I planned to get extremely drunk, to get a good nights sleep (the monsters had been in my room, in my mind, again the night after, and the night after that). I certainly met that goal, and we were all three sheets to the wind by ten thirty, a rare evenings indeed. I wandered out of the bar for a smoke, and felt the chill of the November air. I heard the whispering again. It was plaintive and real, it was calling my name. I couldn't have resisted, as much as the rest of this might have been my fault, could you resist someone calling your name? I didn't realize it was the voice of the cave. The monsters. They knew I would be here, close enough. Just close and unaware enough tonight. They called my name, and I followed. &#x200B; Edit: Bad idea. just survived..