"What can be worse than the absence of light, is the absence of sound. The walls and growths around feel like they eat all sounds that dare intrude here. When it is so silent, your mind begins to race, it is not normal to hear nothing. Hearing nothing makes you feel on edge, as if there is something gravely wrong, as if the whole world is holding its breath around you in anticipation, waiting for a climax, for something to happen.

Your heartbeat becomes a deafening drumming, your feet moving through the water making splashes akin to boulders falling in the water. While it feels like all sound disappears here, I feel as if the walls themselves are whispering what they hear to the things that inhabit this place. Then you hear a noise, somewhere, a massive splash, making you realize how sensitive your ears have become, or maybe something giant is moving there, just out of sight, impossible to tell, damned ears betray the sounds location and you cannot tell if the sound came from just out of your sight, or somewhere far, far deeper down, or did it come from behind you? After awhile you begin to hope to hear something, anything, the silence before a scream always is the worst, your mind is free to imagine how terrible it will be when it comes, and oftentimes your mind is far better at manifesting bad imagery than anything else.

I need to get back out of this cave, I don't care what I came in here for, but this is not worth it. I wish I could just run back up, but I feel compelled to play the game of silence that this place is playing with me, and even though the desire to escape is strong, I keep my legs stiff as I carefully wade through the water. For each time I move, I feel like something down here is mimicking my movements, hiding its own sounds under mine. I don't think I could bear to beginning running and feel that something is running right there, somewhere around me. So I play the game and move as slowly as I can, at least until whatever is down here stops playing the game."