In the depths of my memory, a chilling recollection emerges—a time when I ventured into the shadows of the past, drawn to inspect the decrepit box fronts (drawpoints) far-down below my gold-bearing stopes, as the weight of ore threatened to consume the confined spaces of these box holes. The atmosphere was suffocatingly damp, an oppressive shroud of darkness cloaking the area. An eerie silence hung heavy, broken only by the occasional drip of water, a stark reminder of the lurking depths that surrounded me.
My headlamp, a feeble attempt to pierce the veil of obscurity, had long been tormented by malevolent short-circuits. It was on that fateful day, a day seemingly ordained by the sinister forces of the abyss, that my headlamp surrendered to its own internal demons, plunging me into a realm of impenetrable darkness.
The ground beneath me was a treacherous mix of mud and water, a sinister concoction that seemed to ooze with a life of its own. It clawed at my ankles, threatening to ensnare me within its icy grip.
The rails and sleepers, hidden beneath the mire, served as the only lifeline—a chilling reminder that escape, if it existed at all, was a path fraught with peril.
In the heart of this Stygian void, a grim realization gripped me—a solitary escape route lay before me, a path shrouded in uncertainty. The crosscut, a twisted labyrinth etched in my mind’s eye, stretched out like a macabre corridor to salvation. Imaginations of lights in the distance, the only semblance of hope in this malevolent abyss, beckoned like false beacons in the night, luring me toward their distant glow.
But hesitation gnawed at me like a sinister whisper, echoing with the weight of dread. The prospect of crawling through the clinging morass, of becoming one with the filth that surrounded me, clawed at my resolve. A wave of repulsion washed over me, the image of my own degradation haunting my thoughts. Yet, the alternative-a maddening journey through the murk and muck, bereft of any guiding light—promised a fate more harrowing than the filth itself. 
And so, with a heart heavy with foreboding, I made my choice. But the path was treacherous, the rusted wire mesh that clung to the walls a cruel tormentor. It scraped and gnawed, each step an agonizing reminder of my descent into this murky abyss. The very walls that should have offered solace became my nemesis, the embodiment of a hostile environment that sought to consume me.
As I stumbled forward, the inky blackness wrapped around me like a sinister shroud, suffocating and all-encompassing. My progress was agonizingly slow, a relentless battle against the forces of darkness and despair. The minutes stretched into an eternity as the ordeal continued, my very existence reduced to a torturous struggle to escape this dark muddy hellhole.
In the heart of this Stygian realm, my resolve wavered, my spirit teetering on the precipice of despair. The distant glimmer of a cap lamp, a distant echo of life within the void, beckoned like a mirage imagined—a fleeting beacon of hope. With a voice ravaged by desperation, I cried out for help, my pleas reverberating through the darkness in a haunting chorus.
But fate, it seemed, reveled in cruelty. The light that had promised rescue drew near, only to betray me in the end. It danced and flickered, an elusive specter that tantalizingly drew closer before veering away, leaving me to the clutches of the abyss once more.
As the echoes of my cries faded into the ether, a chilling realization settled upon me. Alone, submerged in darkness and despair, I stood at the precipice of oblivion. And yet, within the recesses of my battered soul, a spark of determination ignited—an ember of defiance against the encroaching void.
With each torturous crawl, each grating step, I inched forward.
Then, crosscut lights, imagined again? No, dim and distant, emerged as a lifeline, a tenuous thread of hope that pulled me from the abyss. Exhaustion gnawed at my bones, but the renewed specter of survival propelled me onward.
And so, after what felt like an eternity of struggle, I emerged from the abyss, battered and broken but unbroken in spirit. The presence of fellow miners, a semblance of humanity in this malevolent landscape, marked my return to reality.
The tales from one of them sounded familiar, of a phantom’s call, a ghostly summons, a cry for help, from the depths within, were met with my own account—an unimpressed response!
The miner who shared his tale, was embarrassed, and his companions chuckled at his folly. Avoiding looking back, I pressed on toward the shaft station with prospects of a sunbathed surface and a beckoning warm shower.
In the aftermath, amidst the embracing camaraderie of fellow shift bosses, laughter mingled with the echoes of terror that had gripped me. The confrontation with the lamp room, where my ordeal had taken root, was met with strained tension, but it bore unexpected fruit—a new lamp, a symbol of my endurance in the face of the abyss.
And as the dawn of a new day broke, casting a feeble light upon the terrors that had transpired, my experience, stood triumphantly as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit—a survivor of the darkness, forever marked by the ordeal that had unfolded in the depths of the unknown.
