"Trapped Beneath Twentynine Palms":
I’m not one for chasing thrills, but when my friend Jake suggested exploring an old mine in the hills near Twentynine Palms, I couldn’t say no. He had this way of making crazy ideas sound fun. “Come on, Alex,” he said, leaning across the diner table, his eyes wide with excitement. “It’s history down there—gold rush stuff. We’ll find picks, maybe even old coins. You in?”
I nodded, though my gut twisted a little. “Just us two, right? No big group?”
“Just us,” Jake promised, sipping his coffee. “Midnight, tomorrow. We’ll go in quiet, no fuss.”
The next night, we stood at the mine’s entrance, a black hole in the rocky hillside. Our flashlights cut through the dark, showing a rusty metal ladder bolted into the stone, leading down a vertical shaft. The air smelled of dust and something sour, like old water trapped too long. My harness felt snug, but the ropes Jake had checked twice made me uneasy—they were secondhand, a bit frayed.
“Ready?” Jake asked, already clipping his carabiner to the rope. His voice echoed off the stone.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound sure. “You go first.”
He grinned, then started down the ladder, his boots clanging. I followed, my hands sweaty on the cold metal rungs. The shaft was tight, barely wide enough for my shoulders. Every step made the walls feel closer, like the mine was breathing. About fifty feet down, the ladder ended at a narrow tunnel. Jake’s light bobbed ahead as he crawled through, his voice muffled. “This place is wild! Look at these timbers—must be a hundred years old.”
I crawled after him, the floor rough under my knees. The tunnel opened into a wider chamber, maybe ten feet across, with wooden supports sagging under the ceiling’s weight. Old crates and a rusted pickaxe lay in one corner, covered in dust. My flashlight caught something shiny—a bent spoon, half-buried. I reached for it, then stopped. A low rumble shook the ground.
“Jake?” I called, my voice sharp. “You hear that?”
He turned, frowning. “Yeah. Maybe just settling. Old mines do that.”
Before I could answer, the ceiling groaned. Rocks fell, fast and heavy. I dove toward the wall, but a chunk of stone hit my shoulder, hard. Pain shot through me, and I heard a snap—my harness strap, torn by the impact. Dust choked the air, and when it cleared, I was pinned under a slab, my legs stuck. Jake was by the tunnel, coughing, his face pale.
“Alex!” he shouted, scrambling over. “You okay?”
“I can’t move,” I said, my voice shaking. My shoulder burned, and my legs felt numb under the rock. “The harness—it’s busted.”
Jake knelt, tugging at the slab. It didn’t budge. “I can’t lift this,” he said, his eyes darting to the ceiling. Another rumble came, softer but enough to make us both flinch. “I have to get help. You’ll be okay, man. Just stay calm.”
“Jake, don’t leave me!” I grabbed his arm, panic rising. The thought of being alone down here made my chest tight.
“I’ll be fast,” he said, his voice firm but scared. “I’ll climb out and call for help. You’ve got your flashlight, right? Keep it on. I’ll be back.”
He squeezed my hand, then crawled back toward the shaft. His light faded, and the sound of his boots on the ladder grew faint. Then, nothing. Just me, the dark, and the mine.
I tried to shift, but the rock held me fast. My shoulder throbbed, and my flashlight’s beam was starting to dim. I turned it off to save the battery, and the darkness swallowed everything. The air felt thick, pressing against my skin. Every drip of water, every creak of the timbers, sounded louder in the black. I thought I heard scratching, like claws on stone. Rats, maybe. Or the mine shifting, ready to collapse.
“Stay calm,” I whispered to myself, my voice echoing. I fumbled for the spoon I’d seen, just to hold something. My fingers brushed it, cold and gritty. I clutched it tight, like it could keep me grounded. Minutes dragged into hours. My legs ached, and the cold seeped into my bones. I kept thinking about the stories—miners trapped, never found. What if Jake couldn’t get help? What if the mine caved in?
A new sound came—a low, grinding hum, like rocks rubbing together. I flicked on my flashlight, sweeping it around. The beam caught a crack in the ceiling, wider than before. Dust trickled down, dusting my face. My breath caught, and I coughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Jake!” I yelled, knowing he couldn’t hear me. The mine answered with another groan.
I don’t know how long I waited—hours, maybe ten, maybe more. My flashlight was nearly dead, the beam a faint glow. I turned it off again, trying to save it. The darkness felt alive, like it was watching me. I talked to myself, just to hear something human. “You’re fine, Alex. Help’s coming. Jake’s got this.” But doubt crept in. What if he fell? What if no one came?
Then, a sound—metal clanking, far off. I held my breath, listening. Voices, faint but real. “Alex!” It was Jake, his voice echoing down the shaft. “Hang on, man! They’re coming!”
Relief hit me, but fear didn’t let go. Lights appeared, bobbing in the tunnel. A man in a helmet crawled through, his face smudged with dirt. “I’m Tom, with the rescue team,” he said. “We’re getting you out. Can you move at all?”
“My legs are stuck,” I said, my voice hoarse. “And my shoulder’s messed up.”
Tom nodded, checking the slab. “We’ll hoist this off, then pull you up the shaft. It’s gonna take time. Stay with me.”
More rescuers came, their gear clanking. They set up ropes and a pulley, working slow to avoid another collapse. The slab lifted, inch by inch, and pain flooded my legs as blood rushed back. I bit my lip, holding back a scream. They strapped me to a board, and the climb up the shaft began. The rope creaked, and the walls seemed to lean in, ready to crush us. Every jolt made me wince, expecting the mine to give way.
When we reached the surface, I gasped, the air sharp in my lungs. Jake was there, his face drawn. “I thought I lost you,” he said, his voice breaking.
“I thought so too,” I managed, my hands shaking.
The rescuers said I’d been down there almost twenty hours. My shoulder was bruised, my legs scraped but not broken. I didn’t need a hospital, just rest. But as we drove away, I kept seeing the mine’s dark mouth in my mind, hearing those creaks and scratches. I haven’t gone near a cave since, and I don’t think I ever will. That place didn’t need ghosts to be terrifying—it was enough on its own.
"Buried Secrets Beneath the Hills":
I never imagined a day trip with friends could turn into a nightmare. My buddies, Emma, Lucas, and Nate, decided to explore an old abandoned mine not far from our town. It was Nate’s idea, as he was always chasing stories about forgotten places. He’d heard this mine, shut down since the 1940s, had tunnels stretching deep into the earth, maybe even hiding old equipment worth something. Emma was hesitant, always the cautious one, but Lucas, who loved a good adventure, was all in. I wasn’t sure, but their excitement pulled me along.
We grabbed flashlights, a couple of water bottles, and some rope, just in case. Nate had a crumpled map he’d gotten from a local historian, showing the mine’s layout. The entrance was a jagged hole in the hillside, half-covered with rotted boards and a faded sign warning people to stay out. We ignored it, squeezing past the splintered wood into the dark.
Inside, the air was cool and musty, smelling like wet stone and decay. Our flashlights lit up narrow tunnels with rusted rails running along the floor. Old timbers propped up the ceiling, some sagging like they might give way any second. “This place is a death trap,” Emma muttered, her voice bouncing off the walls.
“It’s fine,” Lucas said, grinning. “Just stick close and don’t touch anything.”
We moved deeper, following Nate’s map. The tunnel twisted and turned, and soon the entrance was out of sight. My chest tightened a bit, but I brushed it off. Then I noticed something strange—scuff marks in the dirt, fresh, like someone had been here. “Look at this,” I said, pointing my light at the ground.
Nate crouched down. “Could be animals. Or maybe other explorers.”
“Or maybe we shouldn’t be here,” Emma said, crossing her arms.
Lucas laughed. “You worry too much. Let’s keep going.”
We pressed on, but the marks kept showing up, more of them, like a trail. The tunnel opened into a wider chamber, filled with broken crates and rusted tools scattered across the floor. A faint drip echoed somewhere in the dark. Nate was studying his map when we heard it—a low murmur, like voices, coming from a side tunnel.
“What’s that?” I whispered, gripping my flashlight tighter.
“Probably just water or something,” Lucas said, but his voice wasn’t as confident now.
Emma shook her head. “That’s not water. Those are people.”
Nate held up a hand, signaling us to be quiet. The voices grew clearer, rough and urgent. “Move it. We don’t have all day,” one said.
My pulse quickened. Whoever was here wasn’t supposed to be. I motioned to back away, but Lucas wanted to see more. “Just a peek,” he whispered, creeping toward the tunnel.
Against my better judgment, we followed. The voices got louder, and soon we saw a faint glow ahead. Hiding behind a pile of rocks, we peered into another chamber. Two men stood there, one holding a lantern, the other a knife. At their feet was a tarp, and something bulky was wrapped inside it. My breath caught when I realized it was shaped like a person.
“We can’t leave him here,” the man with the knife said. “Too close to the entrance.”
“Then we go deeper,” the other replied, kicking the tarp. “Hurry up.”
Emma grabbed my arm, her nails digging in. Nate’s face was pale, and even Lucas looked shaken. We had to get out, but as we backed away, my foot slipped on loose gravel, sending it skittering across the floor.
The men stopped talking. “Who’s there?” the one with the knife shouted, spinning toward us.
“Run!” I hissed, and we bolted back through the tunnel.
Our flashlights swung wildly, lighting up bits of the walls as we ran. Behind us, heavy footsteps pounded, and one of the men yelled, “Get them!” My lungs burned, and the ropes binding the old timbers creaked as we passed. The chamber was just ahead, but which tunnel led out? Nate’s map was useless now.
“Left!” Lucas shouted, picking a direction.
We darted into a tunnel, but the footsteps were getting closer. The men knew these tunnels better than we did. Suddenly, the ground sloped sharply, and I stumbled, sliding into a shallow pit. Pain shot through my ankle as I hit the bottom.
“Help!” I called, trying to stand.
Emma and Nate turned back, shining their lights down. “Hold on!” Nate said, looking for the rope in his bag.
But the men were already there, bursting into the chamber. One held the knife, the other a heavy metal bar. “You shouldn’t have come here,” the man with the knife growled.
We froze. Lucas raised his hands. “We didn’t see anything. Just let us go.”
The man with the bar laughed, a cold, empty sound. “You think we believe that?”
They forced us out of the pit and into the chamber, making us sit against a damp wall. The man with the knife tied our hands with rough cord from one of the crates. “What do we do with them?” he asked his partner.
“Same as the other guy,” the man with the bar said, nodding toward the tarp.
Emma whimpered, and I felt my throat tighten. I scanned the chamber, desperate for a way out. The ceiling above looked cracked, with loose dirt trickling down. Maybe the mine wasn’t as stable as they thought.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “This place doesn’t look safe. The roof could come down any second.”
The man with the knife snorted. “It’s held up this long.”
But as he spoke, a low rumble shook the ground, and a chunk of rock fell nearby. The men glanced up, uneasy.
“See?” I pressed. “We all need to get out.”
Another rumble, louder now. Dust filled the air, and the men cursed, grabbing their lantern. “Move the body,” one said, but before they could, the ceiling groaned, and a cascade of rocks came crashing down.
“Now!” I shouted, yanking at the cords on my wrists. They were loose enough to slip free in the chaos. I helped Emma and Nate, and we scrambled toward a tunnel as more rocks fell.
The men shouted behind us, trapped by the collapse. We ran blindly, coughing through the dust, our flashlights barely cutting through the haze. The tunnel twisted, and I prayed it led somewhere safe. After what felt like forever, a faint glow appeared ahead—the entrance.
We burst out into the open, gasping and shaking. Without stopping, we ran until we reached the road, where we flagged down a passing car. The driver called the police, and soon sirens wailed in the distance.
When the cops arrived, we spilled everything: the men, the tarp, the chase. They searched the mine and found the men trapped under rubble, alive but injured. The tarp held a body, just as we’d feared—a victim of some illegal deal gone wrong, they later said. The men were arrested, and the mine was sealed off for good.
We never went near another mine again. Sometimes, I still hear those voices in my head, and I wonder how close we came to being another body in that tarp.
"The Collapse":
I was 19, broke, and desperate for cash. My friends—Jake, Ellie, and Nate—had the same problem. We heard stories about old copper wires left in abandoned mines, worth a bit if you could scrape them out. The Elk Creek Mine, a few miles out of town, had been shut down for decades. People said it was dangerous, but we figured we’d be quick. Get in, grab some wire, get out. Simple. I wish I’d known how wrong we were.
Jake drove us to the mine’s entrance, a jagged hole in the hillside, boarded up but with gaps wide enough to slip through. We had backpacks, flashlights, and a pair of bolt cutters Nate borrowed from his dad’s garage. Ellie carried a map she found online, though it was blurry and barely readable. “This better be worth it,” she muttered, squeezing through the boards. Her voice echoed faintly off the damp stone inside.
The air hit me first—cold, thick with the smell of wet dirt and rust. Our flashlights cut through the dark, bouncing off rough walls and broken wooden beams. The tunnel stretched ahead, narrow and uneven, with puddles pooling under our boots. Nate led the way, his light darting around like he was searching for something specific. “Copper’s usually near the support beams,” he said, sounding more confident than I felt. I kept close, my hand brushing the wall, gritty under my fingers.
We walked for maybe 20 minutes, following twists and turns. The map was useless—too many tunnels branched off, and none matched the lines Ellie was squinting at. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said, folding the paper. “We should’ve hit a main shaft by now.” Jake, always the joker, grinned. “What, you scared already? It’s just a big cave.” But his laugh sounded forced, and I noticed he kept looking back the way we came.
Then we heard it—a low rumble, like a truck passing far away. The ground shook under my feet, just for a second. Dust trickled from the ceiling, catching in my flashlight beam. Ellie grabbed my arm. “What was that?” she whispered. Nate turned, his face pale. “Probably just settling. Old mines do that.” But he didn’t sound sure, and I caught him glancing at the walls, like he expected them to move.
We kept going, but the tunnel seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. My flashlight flickered, and I tapped it hard against my palm. “Come on,” I muttered. Jake’s light was dimming too. “Batteries,” he said, shaking his head. “We should’ve brought extras.” Ellie stopped walking. “Guys, I don’t like this. We need to head back.” I wanted to agree, but Nate pushed forward. “We’re close. I saw some wires back there. Five more minutes.”
Five minutes turned into 15. The rumble came again, louder this time, and a crack split the air. Rocks tumbled somewhere behind us, the sound echoing like a gunshot. I spun around, my light catching nothing but dust. “That was close,” I said, my voice shaking. Ellie’s eyes were wide. “We need to go. Now.” Nate hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, back the way we came.”
But the way back wasn’t there. The tunnel we’d taken had collapsed, a pile of dirt and stone blocking the path. My chest tightened. I pushed at the rocks, but they didn’t budge. “We’re stuck,” I said, barely getting the words out. Jake shoved past me, clawing at the pile. “No way. No way this is happening.” Ellie grabbed his shoulder. “Stop! You’ll bring more down!” Her voice cracked, and I saw her hands trembling.
We turned to the only open tunnel, deeper into the mine. My flashlight was barely a glow now, and Nate’s was out completely. We walked single file, Ellie’s breathing loud behind me. The air grew thinner, harder to pull into my lungs. Every step felt like a mistake, but we had no choice. The walls glistened with moisture, and the cold seeped through my jacket.
Hours passed—I don’t know how many. We found a wider chamber and sat, our backs against the wall. Nate pulled out a half-empty water bottle from his bag. “This is all we got,” he said, passing it to Ellie. She took a tiny sip and handed it to me. The water tasted metallic, but I was too thirsty to care. “What if no one finds us?” she asked, her voice small. Jake snorted, but it wasn’t funny. “Someone will. They have to.”
I tried to think of something to say, something to keep us calm. “Remember that time we snuck into the quarry to swim?” I said. “We thought we’d get caught, but we made it out fine.” Ellie gave a weak smile. “Yeah, but this isn’t a quarry.” Nate stared at the ground. “My dad used to work in a mine. Said people got lost and never came out. They just… ran out of air.”
The words hung between us. I wanted to tell him to shut up, but my mouth was dry. Then we heard it—a faint tapping, like metal on stone. I sat up straight. “You hear that?” I asked. Ellie nodded, her eyes wide again. “Rescuers?” she whispered. Nate shook his head. “Could be pipes. Old mines make noises.” But we listened, holding our breath. The tapping came again, closer, then stopped. I wanted it to be help, but the quiet after it felt worse than before.
Time dragged. My stomach growled, and my legs ached from sitting on the hard floor. We shared a granola bar from Jake’s bag, breaking it into tiny pieces. The darkness pressed in, our one working flashlight barely lighting the space around us. Ellie started humming, some old song her mom used to sing. It was soft, shaky, but it kept me from losing it. “Keep going,” I said. She did, and for a moment, it felt like we might be okay.
Then the ground shook again. A loud crack split the air, and dirt rained down. I threw my arms over my head, coughing as dust filled my lungs. When it stopped, the tunnel ahead was half-blocked, but we could still crawl through. “We can’t stay here,” Nate said, his voice hoarse. We moved, scraping our knees on the rough stone. My flashlight died completely, and I grabbed Ellie’s hand, following the faint glow of Jake’s light.
The tapping came back, louder now, with voices—muffled, but real. “Hello?” I shouted, my throat raw. The sound bounced off the walls, and I waited, every muscle tense. A voice answered, distant but clear. “We’re coming! Stay where you are!” Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t care. Ellie squeezed my hand, and Jake let out a shaky laugh. “Told you,” he said, but his voice broke.
It took hours, maybe longer. The voices grew closer, and lights finally pierced the dark. Rescuers in orange vests pulled us through a narrow gap, their hands steady. When we reached the surface, I collapsed, gulping air. My mom was there, crying, wrapping me in a blanket. I looked back at the mine’s entrance, a black hole in the hill, and swore I’d never go near one again.