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Yordas Cave Story

Updated on October 7, 2015

The night air bit at his fingertips, as he vaulted over another fence. Squelch. Cow poop. He could hear the giant's roar even from here even though he was still some way away. Fear of the child eating creature had lead many not to enter the cave: Yordas Cave. Jack knew the stories, however for him it had only fed his curiosity. Angry footsteps echoed through the valley, footsteps that could crush a man's hand. Then, a new sound. A solitary police siren wailing; it was crying out for him to turn back. Had his parents noticed he was missing? Stuffing his sleeping bag with clothes had seemed like a good idea at the time. Perhaps he had been noisier than he thought as he sneaked out from his tent. He could still hear his parents snoring though, so they must have been asleep.

Jack's hand shook, a mixture of fear and a reaction to the cold night air. What was he thinking? He was now at the bottom of the path by the side of the main road. At daytime the cave would have been visible from here. However in the dead of the night, in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside, he could see nothing. Not a single street lamp to light the way, just him and his torch. What if it ran out of batteries? The thought chilled him to the bone.

A set of white lights up ahead caused his heart to race. An iron horse. Whether it was hunting for him or not, if it found him his little adventure would be over. Ducking down behind some bushes, he made himself as small as possible. He felt the high beams shine on him then pass over him, a spotlight in a prison yard. The car drove on. Moving quickly, he clambered up, climbing to the top of the fence, it wobbled precariously. Jumping down, he landed on the muddy terrain. Perhaps it was the wrong time of year, too cold for him to be out. Stupid; stupid; stupid. He chided himself. An invisible hand of cold wind slapped him across the face. He felt his cheeks freeze. He paused. A short listen. The roar was louder now, like one hundred lions growling simultaneously. It was calling him.

His torch flashed over the bright red sign: Caution. Risk of flash floods. The last fence, the hardest to traverse. Looking down into the valley he could see that the police car had stopped at the bottom of the path that led up to the cave. Had they seen him? Grabbing his roll mat from his satchel, he pulled out the wire clippers wrapped inside. A barbed wire fence, easy to get through with the right tools. In the valley below, police torches swung too and fro. They were looking for him. After making several cuts in the fence, he realised it was taking too long. The torches hovered, drawing ever closer, held by unseen hands. His heart racing, he flung his roll matt over the fence covering the spikes: he had seen it in a film once.

Now on the other side of the fence, a giant cast iron door stood before him. Large gaps allowed air to travel in and out. It creaked and groaned in the wind. He got his cutters from his satchel and cut the piddly lock. It fell to the ground with a thud. He looked back down at the men's torches, they were still some way off. He lifted his roll matt from the fence to remove the evidence of him being there, then took one last glance around before making his way inside.

Running water roared in his ear drums. So this was the place. Several people had died here, his parents had told him it had been the giant who had killed them. That he liked to lure little boys into the depths and devour them. Though his teacher told him there was no giant, only a waterfall named Yordas. Large stones made each step awkward. Looking ahead he could see a great torrent of water drowning the cave. It took his breath away. He edged closer, to the top of a pile of stones. The water level was so high. A solitary stone rolled off of the pile and was washed away in the racing waters. Then several more broke off, causing the whole pile to collapse beneath him. He fought it, grabbing onto loose stones as the water drew nearer and nearer. He screeched, “Yordas, help!” just before the water consumed him.

After a second he opened his eyes, to see only white water and loose rubble racing past him. He had no idea where he was going. So foolish. He breached the surface for a second.

“Help!” he cried again. He could see the waterfall, he thought he saw some movement, like something was breaking away from the wall of the waterfall itself, before he was once again dragged under. This was it. Several more seconds passed, he felt a large stone whack him in the stomach causing the air to escape from his lungs. He was done for.

Then a new feeling, like he was being clasped, something large, larger than a human. Its hands wrapped around him, pulling him from the water. Taking in a large gulp of air, he breathed deeply, filling his lungs once again.

That was the only time he ever saw him, the creature. Yordas: as everyone called him. The giant opened his mouth ready to devour another him. Jack shut his eyes, waiting to feel the bite of the creature, to hear the crunch of his own bones. Instead he was carried, perhaps he was being taken to the creature's lair. He kept his eyes shut. There was a sudden change in temperature. Then he felt himself being put down. He opened an eye to see the back of creature's leg disappear back inside the large iron door outside the cave. Yordas had saved him.


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    • BlossomSB profile image

      Bronwen Scott-Branagan 

      3 years ago from Victoria, Australia

      An interesting and gripping story. I'll be looking forward to the next instalment.


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