By Zachary Furr

 

This is Mr. Frank. I am an expert cataphile and I found this pad of paper next to a cave in on the sixth level of the Paris catacombs in July of 1993. these are the events of Orluv Dashman. a poor soul that attempted to go deep on his first try.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 6:10 a.m.

This is hopefully the first note of my exploration of the vast underground of Paris’ catacombs. My name is Orluv Dashman. I am thirty seven years old and an avid hiker, climber and spelunker. I have been on the Alps, seen the undergrounds of Russia, Germany, Britain and Scotland. Paris is next on my list for exploration. I am more excited for this one because it is more illegal than most of the others.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 6:15 a.m.

I am heading out from my hostel with hopes of finding a secret entrance to the catacombs beneath the city of lights. I find a small sense of irony that the city of lights sits upon a larger city of darkness. I talked to some of the local others that make ventures down into the depths, they said not to go in alone and to be sure to take lots of spare batteries for my torch. So I stopped at a convenience store yesterday, I picked up an extra torch, thirty-six double A batteries, and three ham and swiss sandwiches along with five bottles of water.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 6:20 a.m. I have found one of the many entrances that lead down into the dark. and so I see the illuminated Eiffel Tower one last time. I enter the catacombs with a stocked backpack, blue jeans, a red t-shirt and a silver watch that my father have me as I left on this trip.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 6:23 a.m. the first few steps are wet and muddy from the morning dew. I tend to not to touch the walls of the catacombs to much, at first, for I know that these are just the first steps into a large mass grave.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 6:25 a.m. The first bit of death that I see is a hallways that is lined with the skulls of men. I decide to try and do a count of them and got lost around sixty-seven on the way down to the end of the hall.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 6:35 a.m. The farther down these halls I go, the more intricate and unique in the artistry. I have to remind myself every so often that I am staring in to the eyes of the dead.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 6:42 a.m.

The air cools as I continue further in. All around me I feel the views of the dead watching, waiting for me to slip up.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 7:02 a.m.

I have noticed a difference in color scheme of the soil. I must have gone down a level. Now that I am on the second level down, I am stopped for a breakfast sandwich and some water. I reflect on the Divine Comedy and Dante’s descended into the seven layers of hell to save his love. Not unlike me as I go further down into this grave, both have seven layers, and both are filled with the deceased.

 

Paris, France. March 24, 1982 7:09 a.m.

I have picked up my trash and stowed it into my backpack and I shall continue my way down into the grave. It seems that I come across the odd bit of luck, I found s 10 Franc note next to some wool socks.  

 

7:20 a.m.

the hallway seems go on forever and there is little damage to death filled walls, but every now and then I feel cold.

 

7:52 a.m.

The dampness of the walls seem to narrow at points and widen at others.

I have come across rooms next to the passageways that feel like they are several feet wide and deep. And the bones that adorned the walls were almost morbidly beautiful.

 

9:23 a.m.

I have reached the next level down, at least what i assume is the next level. As I have come down quite far, but it seems that I could hear what sounded like a girl’s laugh come from down the hall. I rushed to see if there was a child down here but when I hit a wall I regained myself and thought that the laugh was just the wind.

 

9:46 a.m.

I can start to feel the weight of the city press down on me as I continue down. I feel as if i am not alone down here. I hear laughter the further i go. I am almost certain that i have seen a group down at the ends of corridors and when I turn at the end I come across a cave-in.

 

10:30 ish

I added an -ish to the time log because I slipped in a pool of water and my watch got smashed and flooded. My dad will be disappointed when I see him again.

 

11:20 ish

I’m assuming that. I seem to have lost my way. I tried to turn back but as I went I cannot recognize any of the passages. And the group that is teasing me to go further in, is of no help. I have called out to them several times they simply laugh and beckon to me.

 

12:00ish

I am stopping to journal again. I found the way back up. The beckoning group have led me to an upper incline. The sandwiches that I bought from the corner store got wet from the rancid water. I threw them out of my pack and continued upward.

 

*Frank’s note

This is where I have started to see that I was not the first one to come this far. The group that I was with found the plastic wrapped sandwiches dates to go bad on 25/3/82. The incline is three degrees down on the fourth level. The sandwiches show no sign of moisture damage. Stale bread and spoiled meat.

 

1:04 p.m.

I feel like this is the correct time. I fell going up some stairs. My backpack fell open and all my spare batteries have fallen among some loose bones on the floor. As I reached into the bones to find at least a pair of batteries, I could feel hand reaching up my arms, trying to pull me down and in I left the stairs in a hurry.

 

*Frank’s note

He lost his sense of time. From the sandwiches to the stairs took about 4 hours. And there were no bones scattered at the bottom of the stairs, just 34 batteries. One of our group swears that he could smell methane. If there was a gas leak it could explain what Orluv was seeing was only in his mind.

 

3:00 p.m.

Where’s that blasted exit!?!! I feel that I have walking up for hours and    my flashlight died my spare isn’t working. God, it’s dark.

 

*Frank’s note

found a single flashlight it still works and after only twenty minutes of walking.

 

Unknown time

I started to run. I am panicking from the lack of light. By a small matter of luck I came across two flashlights one works so that I could write another journal entry. I am starting to hear more voices. They are beckoning me to go further in. It’s starting to really weigh down upon me I am beginning to think that they are are correct. Maybe the further in that I go tat maybe there will be a way out. I am taking the flashlight with me so that I can write again to feel like I am not going completely insane.

 

Unknown time

I found a another downward slope. I have found a small party that keep dancing in front of me. Every time I think I catch up to them I turn a corner and see that they have progressed to the next turn. I see them now there they stand so close three steps away.

 

what time is it?

I have lost my way so many times. Writing it now seems to bring me back from (indeterminable scribble) I can see a light in front of me I am taking off my backpack to mark my spot to make sure that I don’t come back this way.

 

*Frank’s note

I found the backpack on my second trip down to these depths. I wasn’t sure it belonged to the sandwiches until i found the notepad. The backpack was laid down next to a ladder leading up.

 

I found the end.

I found a ladder that leads up to a manhole. This is my last entry in this journal. I wave goodbye to the group that lead me out and then a single girl came up and kissed my cheek. I am now ready to ascend the ladder and leave this crypt.

 

*Frank’s note final entry

The hallway in which I found the notepad was lined with femur bones and there was more of a distinct smell of decay. The hallway was collapsed at the end, an arm with a silver watch protruded from the rock pile. Something in the air compelled me to look up the shaft were the rocks came from, There up the shaft was a group of skeletons all standing and holding hands. Except for one that was clasping its own hands, and its eyes glowed red and seemed to pierce my soul. I ran away from that place. I ran until I found the group that I came with. And in only five hours we found our way out.

 

I have not been back down in those forsaken tunnels since July 25, 1993. Something that I have never seen, something that I never want to see again.

 

 

From Zac

This was a harrowing tale for me to write for it took me to a dark frame of mind.