Going bunkers

Somewhere deep in the woods, there is a treasure, rising from the forest floor like a huge Viking helmet.

It’s an old bunker built for the First World War when Sweden feared an attack by the Russians.

It was never used, and faded away to become a part of the woods.

The long corridor underground gave the feeling  of swimming underwater

All sounds were shut out by those thick hundred-year-old walls.

A mossy door showed me its black mouth.

I stepped into an eerie room, lit by faint gold and finally made it to the circular room underneath the Viking helmet.

By now, I was thoroughly spooked by the ancient ghosts whispering in the walls,

By the darkness and silence. The dust of ages.

It was with relief that I turned back, ran up the corridors and followed the necklace of light

Out of history and back into the present.

For more histories, please visit: Our World.