posted on Oct, 11 2007 @ 01:00 PM
The Pit of Hell
The cold wind howled outside the window as she tossed and turned in bed, trying to forget. But the horror of the old man's story still haunted her
restless mind. “I saw hell, I swear!” The man's quavering voice throbbed in her head. He sounded so honest, so genuinely terrified. “I have
to go to sleep,” she thought, “I'll tell them in the morning. We'll see what we can do.” But the memory would not depart, and she recounted
the tale in her head from the old man's descent into the cave to his narrow escape from an eternal death. The bottomless cave, the dark priest, the
jeweled serpent, the human bones picked clean, the dance of death—it all seemed too real, too vivid. He survived just long enough to tell me, she
thought.
She had received the mysterious phone call from an elderly stranger calling himself only The Witness. In the feeble voice of one who had come back
from the dead, he relayed his spine-chilling tale of his fateful trip to a cave in an undisclosed location in the south where an ancient Mayan temple
had been. “I was an archeologist,” he said, “I was trying to locate a cave, a cave where they worshipped...It-it.” His voice trailed off,
and she thought she heard muffled weeping on the other end of the phone. “The serpent, his eyes!” the man suddenly exclaimed. Trying to remain
calm, she said, “I know this is hard. But you'll have to tell me a little at a time, in order. What happened after your found the cave?”
“I was with four of my companions and we decided to explore it with only our little lights and a few pieces of equipment. We didn't have what
they got nowadays, but I remember distinctly being told by an old native man to take a weapon. At the time I thought that was ridiculous. What
would we need a weapon for? Since we had no guns, we figured a small knife would be sufficient for whatever danger we would encounter down there.
Oh, how wrong we were! If only...” his voice faltered again. “Oh, It wouldn't have made a bit of difference anyway. Not with those teeth, that
spear. It was hell, I tell you, hell!” And he began to shout.
The one-sided conversation went on like this for about another half hour with the man telling his nightmarish tale interrupted by fits of emotion.
Finally, she said, “All right. Now tell me what happened when you were in the cave, and how your friends died.”
“The staircase spiraled on for what seemed like an eternity. It must have been miles under the earth. Then they disappeared, my friends did. One
by one I heard their screams. Pulled away into the blackness by some mysterious force of the underworld. The priest of darkness, he was death! I
was so shocked by what I was finding, though, I can't say really how long I was trapped.”
“What were you finding?”
“Oh no, no! Not that! It was bones! Human bones! Everywhere! The walls were nothing but human bones. And a skull in every corner! And the
man, the priest of darkness, a man dressed in a black robe. With a human skin around his neck, fresh, dripping with blood! He danced around the
altar, chanting in a vile foreign language. And there was a serpent, it walked on two legs! Thousands of little gold chains hanging from its scaly
body. Oh the serpent, his eyes!” and then there was silence. The silence of death.