I found a tunnel under my shed — I went down there and realized I would never return the same…

I had always thought of my shed as something completely ordinary. It was built by my grandfather, and the floor seemed as solid as the ground itself. But that day, something changed. Beneath my feet there was suddenly a hollow sound, as if there was emptiness under the boards.

Curiosity overcame fear. I took a crowbar and lifted one board, then another… and froze. Beneath me opened a rectangular entrance with wooden steps leading down into the darkness. Cold air burned my face.

I struck a match and carefully began to descend. The tunnel walls were smoothed, the beams aligned — clearly, this was not built in haste.

But what shocked me most was something else: in the dust, fresh footprints were clearly visible. Someone had already been here… very recently.

With each step I felt a shiver run down my spine. The deeper I went, the more I realized: this was no accidental discovery. It was part of a secret, carefully hidden from me and my whole family.

And when, ahead of me, in the weak light of the flame, I saw what lurked in the darkness, I understood: there was no turning back. I would never leave that underground place the same person again…

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Step by step I kept going until the tunnel widened and led me to an even deeper corridor. The flashlight beam slid across stone walls — and I realized: this was an old railway passage.

Judging by the rusty rails and collapsed masonry, it hadn’t been used for decades.

But what unsettled me most was something else. Fresh tracks were still visible in the dust, and I followed them. A few minutes later I noticed a faint light ahead.

As I came closer, I froze: right in front of me sat people. Several figures in ragged clothes, with weary eyes.

They raised their heads and stared at me. At that moment time seemed to stop — they didn’t know who I was, and I didn’t know what they would do next.

A primal fear gripped me. I turned and ran back without minding the path. The flashlight bounced in my hand, my heart pounded out of my chest.

When I reached the shed, I hurriedly replaced the boards and collapsed onto the floor, gasping.

But peace was gone forever. Now I know that under my house live people — hidden, unknown “tunnel dwellers.”

I will never again be able to sleep peacefully, knowing only a few boards separate us. And perhaps soon I will have to make a decision: call the authorities or abandon my ancestral home forever.