#tuesdayuseitinasentence : Stay

Cave, tunnel system

Image : Pixabay

‘… while they’re called ‘caves’, what you see around you is actually what’s left of a sand mine, dug out for the glass making process. After quarrying here ceased, the space was used for storage – elephant tusks, oil, spirits. And people. During the Napoleonic Wars, French soldiers were supposedly imprisoned here and later still African slaves. If you look to your right you will see the distinctive ‘Crooked Pillar’ …’

Dan tugged Connor’s sleeve, holding him back as the tour moved on without them.

As the voices receded, Dan handed Connor his torch. ‘Grab this.’ He put his hand deep in his trouser pocket.

‘What are you doing, Dan?’

Connor sounded nervous, voice tight and higher than usual. Dan smiled, waggling a crushed white box in the air.

‘Having a fag, what do you think I’m doing?’

Connor looked nervously behind him, towards the faint glow of torches, the hushed echo of the guide’s voice. ‘You can’t smoke in here.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s an enclosed space. It’s illegal.’

Dan shrugged. ‘That’s for pubs and restaurants. Don’t reckon it extends to caves.’

‘Mr Gill will see we’re missing. We’ll get a bollocking.’

Another shrug. Being told off by teachers happened every day. They opened their mouths and Dan just watched, waited until the flapping stopped and then he got on with whatever he wanted to do. And right now, he wanted a smoke.

‘Don’t be a dick, Con. We’ll catch up in a minute.’

Connor shook his head. ‘I’m working at the supermarket after school. I’m not getting detention for you.’ He handed Dan the torch and stalked away, ducking under the low arch. In a second he was gone.

‘Dickhead,’ called Dan, but the sound snuffed out immediately.

Weird. In some pars of the caves your voice carried, bouncing between the walls, diminishing only slowly into silence. In others, it was like a blanket was thrown over you, your words killed immediately.

Well, he wasn’t trotting back like a good boy. There was a wall about the right height to sit on – the edge of a big round hole – and he perched on that, gripping the torch under his arm as he lit his cigarette.

The place was pretty cool actually. Dark, low ceilings, damp dripping down the walls into brown puddles. There was even some kind of cell with a rusty gate and bars. He’d pushed that stuck up bitch Keishi inside, slammed the gate on her until she squealed and stamped her feet like a three-year-old. That had been fun. Course, Gill had stopped it, given him a talking to.

‘… last chance … pushing your luck … do you want to be excluded?’

What did it matter? He was going to be a nightclub bouncer like his dad. You didn’t need a Geography GCSE to beat the crap out of people.

He sucked on the cigarrete, blew the smoke into the torch beam, watched how it thickened in the light. The cave smelt good – damp, musty. Things mouldering, rotting. The dark was good too, the way it held you. He wondered how dark it would be …

He turned off the torch.

He’d never seen such blackness. He held his hand up, but couldn’t see it.

‘Cool.’ Now his voice echoed, hitting the far wall and coming back to him, fainter but still recognisable. Dan whispering.

From far off he could hear footsteps scuffing the rock, mumbled voices. If only he could be alone down here. Completely alone.

‘Alone,’ he called, louder this time, the sound bouncing back and forth – two, three times – before vanishing.

He took one last long drag and flicked the butt away with his thumbnail, saw the cinder flicker in the dark, before crashing to the ground, sparks flying before it snuffed out.

‘Dead,’ he laughed.

He caught his breath. The echo was lower this time, the voice hoarse. He tried to ignore the thump of his heart against his ribs.

‘Dead,’ he called again.

Hand over his mouth now, to stop from screaming. That wasn’t his voice. It was right by his ear. Slower, deeper than him. And angry, really angry.

Dan scrabbled for the torch, fumbling at the button, needing to break the dark open. It jumped from his hand, cracked to the floor, plastic smashing.


He felt his own face, but his lips were clamped tight, only a whimpering sound escaping. He didn’t say that.

Hands clamped round his wrists and he was dragged from his seat, crashing to the rock, thrashing empty air with his feet. Stone bumped under him, scraping his back, tugging at the loose waistband of his tracksuit bottoms, exposing him. Cold metal cut his back, hacking his spine. He fell to the floor, head smacking the ground. Scraping, squeaking, rusty sounds. The clang of a gate closing.

Dark washed over him, inside, outside. He slipped away.

‘Stay,’ whispered the voice.


Keishi watched the ambulance pull away. What was left of the class stood in the carpark in small groups, chatting in low voices. Mr Gill was talking to a policeman, a furrow of concern cutting his brow.

‘Hey,’ said Connor walking towards her, wiping his hands on his jeans.

‘Hey,’ she said, smiling.

He kissed her forehead, a light brush. His hand rested on her arm. ‘You okay? Want me to hang around?’

Keishi nodded. ‘Stay,’ she whispered.


Written for Stephanie at Word Adventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. Today the word is ECHO. See here to join the fun.

This was based on Bristol’s own Redcliffe Caves, an old sand mine now used for tours, ghost hunts, the setting for plays and the odd bit of TV filming. Creepy but a fascinating place.

And yes, they did store ivory there – and humans.

Do read more here and here.

29 thoughts on “#tuesdayuseitinasentence : Stay

  1. Ooh, you have a dark and disturbed mind, Lynn, not sure if I’d welcome meeting you in the flesh. (He could Lynn’s steely stare boring into his eyes, the machinations of her her brain determining what suitably discordant fate could befall him …”)

    When we were on a guided tour of these very caves many years ago we were quite spooked by one lone individual who always appeared to stand behind us at points on the tour — and, yes, he was indeed a heavy breather. Your chilling piece (aren’t they all?) brought those memories back; at least we’re alive to tell the tale.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha! I’ve often said I’m a surprisingly cheerful person in real life – not dark in the least! But I’ve always loved reading and writing dark stories. At school my creative writing went on for pages and pages and always included ghosts and vampires! 🙂 Not much has changed.
      Redcliffe Caves are creepy, aren’t they? Logic tells you it’s only a dark, enclosed space, but still, you can’t helped be spooked. They put some Shakespeare plays on there this year and I quite fancied that but missed out on the tickets. Sounds like your stalker was creepey too – you sure he was real and one of those Napoleonic soldiers? 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Ta lovely! Love a bit of darkness and caves are amazing. There are quite a few cave systems in the area round where my mum lives, so I remember spending a fair amount of time as a kid with water dripping on my head, trying to find elephants / witches and bears in rock formations 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It was kind of lovely. Something I appreciate more as an adult. Though last time I went to a cave I couldn’t help but think of The League of Gentleman’s Stumhole Cavern sketch – Mark Gatiss’s performance and script is spot on


      2. Aw, really? What a shame you can’t open it. They were brilliant, weren’t they? REALLY dark, but amazing characters. Love every cast member still 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I am pretty sure that I must have had my eyes almost popping out and my mouth wide open when I was reading this one.. adrenaline rush! Thank you and please keep writing these amazing thrillcakes!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much! I love that :)So glad you enjoyed it and felt that pulse of adrenalin as you read. I love to read and write scary tales, so hopefully you’ll find something else you like soon. Thanks for reading 🙂


  3. That was a long sentence – with an unusually large amount of full stops:) but I enjoyed every word. The bad side of me cheered silently when Dan got his comeuppance. A great read.
    I loved the League of Gentlemen video too. Nobody does it better.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha! In my defence, Stephanie does say ‘in a sentence’ OR ‘blog post’ – I use the looser, blog post format 🙂 Thank you – I did enjoy writing that, trying to build the tension at a good pace. Great fun. Makes me feel like writing more chillers 🙂 And The League are fab, aren’t they? The Stumphole Cavern sketch is perfect.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. If you had stuck with the single sentence, rather a lot would have been lost 🙂
        I agree – that sketch is perfect. Wouldn’t it be great to write stuff like that, and to see it delivered so beautifully… Art is more than just paintings 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Would love to see it done in Redcliffe Caves, where it’s set. That would be marvellous. You’re right, art comes in many forms, types and sizes 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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