Urban Exploration at my City's Subway

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Diver-from-Depths 31/10/15 (Sat) 23:42:18 #35241784


The cold December raindrops were beginning to fall softly. I could feel them hitting my body, making a tingling sensation, yet nothing was going to disturb my ponderings. A hatch at ground level was going to lead me to a place that is considered a myth, the Metro-2. How did I manage to find it so easily? The uncertainty was starting to make me hesitate. I'm alone in an open field. I could slip and die inside the old tunnel. I don't know what awaits me, but whatever it is, I'll have to be ready. I cleared my mind, thought of best-case scenarios. 'Local man finds Moscow's Metro-2.' That was the best I could hope for.

I used all my strength to open the rusty old metal plate. The screeching sound seemed like an announcement of death; it ran through my bones, sending a shiver throughout my body. I was already in place, to turn back would have been cowardly. I convinced myself that there was nothing to be afraid of, that I could manage to get out with my skills in case something happened. I took a deep breath, inflated my lungs and relaxed my body.

The rusty steps of the ladder embedded in the wall told me that gloves would have been an excellent addition to my exploration equipment, but now I had to move forward without hesitation. It was cold, the water kept harassing me and the dampness in the narrow space made me nauseous. I wished I had been smarter and not arrived with what I was wearing in the morning. My hands had some slight cuts on them, but there was no blood. I was relieved to say the least.

When I descended into that claustrophobic place, I was greeted by another staircase, this time an electric one. Although time had taken its toll on the superficial structure, the mechanism that moved the steps was still in operation. How long had it been? Perhaps just under 100 years since anyone had set foot in this place. Breathing again, this time in short periods because of the musty smell, I managed to calm myself, but I did not move forward. I was, to some extent, petrified by the idea that this was still active. There were no words of encouragement.

My body walked forward on its own, as I was absorbed in my thoughts, in my panic, with my survival instinct triggered. Maybe the government wanted to reactivate it? Unlikely, fixing everything would take too much time, effort and money. Maybe there is someone who wants it operational? In which case, why? I could feel the fever taking over my head due to the rush of ideas flooding my brain. Although it could also be the mold having something to do with it. When mind and body were one and the same again, I found myself standing on a concrete platform with its walls decorated with aquamarine blue and pale white tiles. It was illuminated.

If there was communist propaganda, train schedules or subway line maps, they were gone. The place was a mess. There were few areas that were not overrun with fungus or rust. I scanned the entire area with my eyes and there wasn't much else to see. Something was telling me to get closer to the tracks. I leaned out and looked both ways. On the left, a heavy darkness that my flashlight couldn't penetrate. On the right, an abandoned train car at what appeared to be the end of the subway. Summoning all my courage, I climbed down and made my way to the right, with the sole purpose of finding a souvenir to certify my visit so that I could leave immediately.


I looked around the old wagon, but there was nothing interesting or that I could take with me. Scrap metal and little else. I accepted the invitation of that piece of transport's open door for one reason only: it seemed frozen in time. Compared to its surroundings, it was well preserved. Shining a light into the corridor, I found some interesting posters.

I walked forward to the driver's cabin, just out of curiosity. The controls were well preserved and, when I pressed the button that said 'Illumination,' the light came on. The sound of the lamps turning on made me startle, cover my ears and close my eyes instinctively. It took me a while to recover from the shock. Tired from the emotions (and from having to calm down) I had not long ago, I decided to sit in the driver's seat. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

A thunderous screeching sound woke me up. There was only one thing in that place that could produce that sound, or at least that's what it seemed to me. It's not as if, having just woken up, I'm the most clear-headed person either. Despite this, my ideas were not wrong. The creaking sound was produced by the friction of the rusty rails rubbing against the wheels of the wagon. I could see the platform from which I came passing by, then I entered the complete darkness of the tunnel. The laws of physics did not seem to affect me. I felt the increasing speed of the train, but not the pressure that followed.

In fear, I fumbled buttons, levers and knobs. Nothing worked. Reluctantly, I decided to see if there was something strange in the back. My movements were clumsy, but I managed to collect myself. The door that invited me was closed. A shiver similar to when I opened the trap door made its entrance into me. It might not be that odd that a platform from the 1940's was still operational; many abandoned stations are still connected to the power line. But what explained a train driving itself?

I took a seat. I was silent, not thinking about anything; the screeching did not allow me to do so. I then felt that the subway stopped completely from one moment to the next. I didn't fly away. I had arrived at a junction. The door opened, this time inviting me to get off. I had to choose where to go, maybe the exit was closer than going back the way I came. On a wooden plank, I drew a cross mark. You never know what might be in a godforsaken place. I went to the left.

I went back to the junction, but the cross mark was gone and so was the wagon. Everything else was the same, nothing had changed. Confused, I took the left path again. The same thing happened. I tried again. Nothing different. One more try. This time I could see that the rails had less rust and the walls had a grayish color typical of concrete. The deep darkness was mostly gone. Mostly? Lack of light doesn't work like that.

I repeated the process of taking the left path two more times. On the last attempt, the tunnel was fully illuminated by lamps on the ceiling. The rust was gone. A pair of lights approached me along the tracks, and stopped as they shone their light right at me. I could hear a voice over a loudspeaker talking to me in a strange accent.

Lil-Moskva 01/11/15 (Sun) 05:15:23 #27491053

Interesting story. So how old are you? 115 years old? It would be nice to fix those chronological errors to make it believable.

Diver-from-Depths 01/11/15 (Sun) 06:04:54 #35241784

Hi there, Moskva (nice name). Actually, it's a story written by my great-grandfather, which my grandmother showed me a few days ago while we were visiting her parents' grave. We sat on some benches in front of the tombstones and she started talking to me about what it was like to live with them, until she got to that story. Then she pulled out a sheet of paper and the poster. She insisted that I write it down on my phone so that I wouldn't forget it, and I took pictures of the propaganda.

"My parents met shortly after that. Mom was a nurse riding in a wagon. The driver stopped the train because someone was on the tracks. It was Dad, he was in shock. Mom helped him and from then on they fell in love until they got married."

It was just yesterday that I remembered I had the story in a Word document and I wanted to put it here for fun. I just added an image from the internet to represent the story's wagon. Don't think I have any idea about what happened either, I'm just as confused as anyone else here.

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