 Let's start with the background for this story. In 2008, I'm between semesters in college and I land my dream job. Well, the dream job I wanted to work in summers between school years, that of a tour guide at the British Columbia Mining Museum, located just north of Vancouver in Britannia Beach. This museum was everything I wanted from a summer job and more since I was a huge local history buff, and I was actually in my second year of a history major. So yeah, I was excited. Work started in May, and it was pretty awesome. I was running tours, getting to demo vintage mining equipment, drive an old electric mine train down a defunct tunnel. Best of all, I got to dress up like a miner from the early 20th century, complete with vintage metal hardhat and carbide lantern. Though we used electric lamps for the most part, the carbide was there just for a demo. While not doing tours, the guides did some basic maintenance on the ground, including the 500 meter long tunnel that we did tours in. This mostly involved cleaning up trash, making sure cables, lights and other things were in working order and not getting in the way, that kind of thing. The other responsibility we had was to close up the tunnel and the grounds at the end of the day. Now, there were two scenarios when closing up this tunnel. One was the train that we did tours on was at the entrance to the tunnel. So you would drive the train into the tunnel, lock the entrance door and drive the train to the charging station at the other end of the tunnel, plug it in and lock up the exit door. This was the norm as it was a usual habit for the guides to back the train to the entrance right after their tour completed. But sometimes they would leave it at the other end if it was the last tour of the day. Scenario two was the train was already at the tunnel exit plugged in and changed. So you would have to lock up the entrance door and walk down the long tunnel to lock up the exit. It's a pretty creepy trek through this place. The tunnel is dark, lit by some pretty minimal lighting. So you really have to rely on your headlamp to not stumble. And if anyone has ever visited, worked in or explored a mine. The floor is pretty treacherous. At the entrance to the tunnel, it branches off into two sections going straight takes you to the active part where we do most of the tours, etc. It was also the tunnel that was used during the operation of the second mill building burned down and replaced with the current one in place today. And the tunnel to the left was used by the first mill building. Both of these tunnels were used to transport or concentrate to the nearby docks. As you pass the branch in the tunnel, you can very clearly see a difference in construction as the builders of the first tunnel has much more primitive tech than the second. So you can feel a very different air to the left tunnel. That's the history lesson. Sorry if it was long winded. Now onto my creepy tale and one that pretty much well scarred me for life and made me never want to venture into that tunnel alone. And if I did, I ran the hell through it to the other side. It was late May and we'd wrapped up the tours for the day. My partner had the last tour. So I was to follow up behind them about 15 minutes behind as to not disturb the tour and the train ride and close the door behind us. It was pretty routine close the huge rounded wood and steel door padlock it and walk through the tunnel. The left branch I spoke about earlier is about 10 meters from the entrance door. I had to check it to make sure no one from the public had wandered down there. So I strolled down the dark unlit branch of tunnel. Seeing no one I turned around. It was then I realized that something was off. There was light in the tunnel coming from some unknown source like candles in the fog. I started to hear voices people calling out whispering in my ear. We're trapped here. It's so dark. I can't breathe. Why haven't they found us yet? So cold. I was shocked. Then terrified. When I realized there was no way the sounds were coming from the tour near the other end of the tunnel. In fact, everything was silent, muffled. The air felt oppressive and heavy. I bolted to the fork in the tunnel, knowing I had to get out of there. But the voices followed all of them whispers in my ear calling out for my help begging for God to save them. A mist started to form around me closing in and blocking my view of the fork. I ran for much longer than I should have. Ghostly hands clutched at my coveralls as the voices begged for help once again. But I kept running and running until my fear could push me no longer. I should have been at the entrance by now free of this mist. But there was nothing but muffled ghostly white and gray around me. I stopped and took a breath trying to slow my breathing. But the voices returned. It's so dark. Oh God, he's dead. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. The voices became panicked as if the settling of my own panic drove theirs higher. I stopped running. I just stood there as the tightness in my chest increased. I fell to my knees, the heaviness and oppressive need to panic rising up again. I could feel those ghostly hands touching me, pulling at me, but never able to get a good grip. Looking up and shining my light forward, I saw a wall, one that should not have been there. It was full of holes, one of them badly broken up like an explosion had blasted a trunk of wall away. There in front of that wall, there were bodies, several men in old school mining garb lay broken and obviously dead in front of a mine face. Others huddled around in a corner while one man working only by the light of his carbine lamp tried to dig away at a collapsed tunnel. Then as soon as the vision or whatever it was was there, it faded. The mist parted and the wall with a broken men lay was only the dark poorly lit tunnel that I was used to seeing. I blinked a few times in confusion. And then my mind cleared panic rising once more. And I bolted down that tunnel faster than I've ever run in my life. I close the exit door quickly and stood outside in the fresh air panting and just happy to be out of that place. I took a moment to calm down and then proceeded to make my usual rounds. I was pretty shaken up though by what I'd experienced, what I'd seen. It was impossible, right? And if I did experience it, what was it? Well, I would have that answer about a week later after insisting that my partner accompany me each time we had to lock up the tunnel for safety. Doing some research in the archives that the museum had on hand, I found a report from the mine director that 18 men had been lost. Yes, he said lost while constructing a new branch of the tunnel during the construction of mill number two. These men were using old style nematic hammer drills to drill the bore holes for the dynamite. Loading the holes with the explosive as each one was finished. The vibration from the large heavy drills set off one of the sticks of dynamite and caused an unstable section of the tunnel to collapse. The blast killed three right away and the others suffocated before rescue could be made. Did the ghost of those miners contact me? Did they try to pull me into their world or were they just asking for help? The hell if I know. All I know is that I will never go into any tunnel by myself again.