Every coin is double-sided. Every person has their secrets. Everything has a dark side.
The same can be said about the so-called City of Love, Paris, France. My travel group, dubbed
the Yellow Group, arrived four days ago. I've been exploring the city any chance I've gotten.
It's certainly a city. I don't think I'll ever get the cigarette smell out of my nose. Unlike some of
my other peers, I have no interest in the Louvre nor the Eiffel Tower. Why visit them when a gold
mine lies right under my feet? I'm referring, of course, to the catacombs. Back in 1774,
Paris had itself a problem. You see, they had no place for their dead. Their cemeteries were
overflowing. Soon, they started transferring remains from cemeteries into the mine shafts
that stretched under the city. It was open to the public nearly a century later, and since then,
has been a popular place for tourists and thrill-seekers. While the graves only inhabit a
small section of the underground mines, the entire network of tunnels are referred to as catacombs.
We have a free night tonight. It is a perfect opportunity to sneak off and explore the catacombs.
I cannot miss this opportunity. While my little chat with Annie was a nice start,
it's about time to get serious. This time, I'm not looking for a spirit. I'm looking for a
haunt. A specific haunt. The third type of ghost, the haunt, is known for possessing objects,
and on rare occasions, people. I need to talk with one. Which, if you know nothing about ghosts,
might seem easy. It's not. Haunts cannot speak. The only ghosts that can speak are spirits,
and on rare occasions, phantoms. However, I have a theory. If I could somehow convince the
haunt to possess my recorder, we may just be able to communicate. There are so many ways
this could go wrong, but this is essential for my goal. So, if you're brave enough,
and hopefully not claustrophobic, join me in exploring the most haunted place in Europe.
I managed to record a bit of that conversation. Great. I have to convince someone else to go with
me. Obviously, I can't explain why I really want to go. Even if they do believe me,
they'll be too scared to come. Alright. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I'm taking to the group chat. What's that for? This? I journal.
Travel stuff. Oh, cool.
Yes. Okay. We have a plan. Alex here will accompany me to the catacombs.
Hi, recording. Yes, hi. So, I will pick back up once we enter the catacombs,
and hopefully, we see everything we want to, and both make it out alive.
We're inside. There were a lot of people near the entrance.
Yeah, it was so crowded. Could you not speak while I'm recording?
Oh, okay. Yeah, thanks.
Alright, jeez. We have entered a quieter section.
It's a long stone hallway. I think I see a stairway at the end. Yes, it's a staircase.
Good. This is good. This is the way to the ossuary.
Oh, God. Yes, I have to admit, it is unsettling.
The walls are of bone. There is death here. The skulls lining the wall stare forever.
Hey, you're kind of creeping me out with that. Oh, sorry. Am I still not allowed to talk?
There is death in the air. It seeps into the soil. It is everywhere.
The only thing that stands between us and complete darkness is a small hanging light
fixture. But this place is empty. We need to go deeper.
Alright, this is deep enough. It's gotta be. We took so many turns, I'm scared we're gonna
get lost on the way back. Plus, I swear I saw someone back there.
Yeah, you probably did. There are a lot of Type 1s here. This is good enough.
Thank God. We're in a circular room. The ceiling is lower
than before, as if the catacombs themselves are trying to strangle us.
The bones are still watching. There are many more than before.
In the center of the room is a pillar. It, too, is made from bone.
We are not alone here. What?
Shh. I need to concentrate. Why don't you take a walk around the loop?
Yeah, alright, fine. I feel you.
Stop. You cannot scare me. It's pointless to hurt me. I simply want to talk.
Okay. Good. I think we can help each other. If you're willing to hear me out, I invite
you to possess my recorder. For the first time I've had a voice in nearly
300 years. Feels good to talk again. Now, what do you want?
I need your help. Yeah, with what?
Funny. You sound a lot like me. Of course I do, you idiot. I possess a recorder
with your voice on it. What did you expect? Alright, easy. This is still new for me.
Yeah, yeah. Back to my question. Why shouldn't I just kill you now?
Curiosity. Yeah, fair enough. What do you need my help
with? I want you to travel with me. Just for a bit.
Then, when the time comes, I'll ask you to possess something. Just for a second.
Enough to leave behind a ghostly trace of energy.
Oh, interesting. What will I be possessing?
I can't say yet. Interesting. What happens after?
After? You're free to go. Hmm, this is very strange. Do you have
casual conversations with ghosts daily, or is this a new thing?
Relatively new. I'm on edge. I can tell. You're lucky though.
You've stumbled across possibly the friendliest haunt you can find.
Wasn't an accident. Oh, we got ourselves an expert here.
Alright, boss. I know what I want in return. What?
First, I want you to release me in Prague. Prague? Why there?
I've always wanted to visit. Been stuck down here for so long, but I haven't forgotten my dreams.
Alright, I can do that. What else? I want you to listen to a story.
A story? That's all? That's all.
Alright then. Can it wait until we're out of the catacombs?
It has to be here. And you have to get your friend to listen as well.
Fine. Give me a second.
Alright, but then we're leaving. Yes, just listen to what I recorded, just to see if it's good.
Fine. Start it. Alright, I will start. How about I start at the very beginning?
You said this was pre-recorded? Yes, no, shh.
There was a man. He was a simple man. A doorkeeper for the Val de Grasse hospital during the French Revolution.
He had worked as a quarryman years before, but became too old to keep up.
Luckily, he was able to find a new job at the hospital.
He liked his new job. Even if it was a repetitive task, it was work, and he needed it.
On the 3rd of November, in 1793, this man took a break.
It was the middle of the day. So busy. So many times he had to open the door over and over.
Pull the handle, smile at the guest, and close it behind him.
Over and over. Pull the handle, smile at the guest, and close it.
Pull, smile, close. Pull, smile, close.
His body ached from such a simple task. It was so cold.
Luckily for him, he got a chance to take a break.
But he was not allowed inside the hospital break room.
Instead, he was told to wait in the hospital courtyard until his break was over.
It was so cold. He shivered violently.
Then, he saw it. A small cellar in the courtyard.
It was open, and inside was a staircase leading downward.
A small lantern hung above the cellar, its flame whipping in the wind.
Desperate for the warmth, the man took the lantern off the hook and entered the cellar.
He couldn't hold the door open behind him, so he let it swing shut.
The only light came from his lantern.
Whatever this cellar was, it seemed like it was old.
Older than the hospital.
The cold air drifted in, so he walked just a bit further.
The walls were interesting.
As he walked, slowly heating back up, he watched them slowly transition from stone bricks to bones.
He stopped, paused, considered going back.
He should have gone back.
There was a turn, then another.
Finally, he stopped.
He had gone far enough. He was warm again, and his break was almost over.
He instinctively reached for the hospital key on his belt.
Time to get back to it.
Pull, smile, close.
He hadn't gone too far in.
It was just two turns, then straight to the exit.
He began walking.
He would have to ask someone about this place, what it was.
One turn.
He stepped back onto stone bricks, sighing slightly.
He was relieved he knew his way out.
There was an uneasiness to being down here.
He could see the next turn up ahead.
There were three passageways.
He must have missed them walking in, but he remembered his passage.
It was the first one, since he didn't see the others.
Then, as he approached, he tripped over a step that wasn't there before.
He caught himself. Didn't get hurt at all.
But the lantern, the flame, the light went out.
Immediately, pitch black darkness. Darkness you never experienced.
Darkness so devoid of light, it became hard to hear, smell, or even feel.
The man slowly got to his feet.
He reached out for the wall.
He couldn't feel it.
He moved his arm, feeling for it.
It was just there. It had to be there.
He couldn't find it.
He spun around, his arms stretched in either direction, every direction.
Panic began building in his chest.
He took a shaky, slow step.
Then another, and another.
Still, no wall.
After what felt like an eternity, his fingers brushed up against something.
The man almost fell to his knees with relief.
He touched the wall, holding it for dear life.
He found it. He could leave.
Finally.
He went to wipe the sweat from his face.
And to his horror, his other hand brushed up against a different wall.
He felt it, stretching his hands out.
Whatever hallway he was in was much smaller than before.
He could barely extend both his arms.
Where was he?
He grabbed one side of the wall and slowly began walking along it, heading for, hopefully, the exit.
He traced his hand along the wall as he walked.
This wall.
It didn't feel like stone.
It wasn't.
His fingers slipped into the eyes of the skull.
The man shuddered, but he did not let go.
He couldn't risk losing the wall again.
His lifeline.
He kept walking.
He had to have been getting closer.
He slowly stopped feeling skulls.
They were replaced by stone bricks.
He was on the right path.
He exhaled a breath.
The sound was deafening.
It was the first sound he heard since the light had gone out.
For some strange reason, it felt dangerous to make too much noise.
As if it would attract too much attention.
He walked further, still tracing the wall.
Then...
The wall...
Vanished.
Yes, vanished.
It did not turn a corner.
It did not end.
The man felt it move away from his fingers.
He froze instantly.
He hadn't moved.
So there was no way he let go of it.
He waved his arm, trying to feel it again.
He couldn't feel anything.
He stepped backwards, where the wall just was.
He couldn't feel anything.
There he was, back in pitch black darkness.
Lost and stuck.
Eleven years later, as a crew explored a far section of the catacomb,
they stumbled across a body.
It was so badly decomposed, there was no telling who it might have been.
The only hint was a silver key attached to a ring on what once was his belt.
What was an even worse discovery
was a stairwell leading to the surface, just a few meters away.
Whoa, that was intense.
Yes, it was.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
Alright, let's get out of here.