And suddenly it seemed like that I was out of this world.
The chaos of Central London settled subtly, and was almost non-existent, when I reached Chislehusrt. The train station was fairly empty, the roads didn’t have many vehicles–it reminded me of a haunted town.
Though not haunted, I was there to explore the Chislehurst Cave, a chilling experience indeed.
Beneath the spooky forest, walking on the cobbled surface of the cave with only lanterns as the source of light, the only question on my mind was: What if I get stuck here for the rest of my life or what if some serial killer is on a spree?
But the most exciting and yet scariest part of that cave exploration was when we sacrificed our lanterns at an altar where there used to be human sacrifices some 4,000 years ago. He asked us to take a challenge, and we accepted it: to stay in pitch darkness for about a minute.
As he walked away with the lanterns, the light slowly dimming and then disappearing, we were left in complete darkness. It was dark, it was silent. At that point, it was some sort of rush inside me–for a moment I thought all my body senses were giving up. I couldn’t see or hear anything and all I could feel was a sense of warmth.
But it was all over in a minute. And after a short walk, I was back into the light, into the real world. My senses were back. And so here I am, writing.