Boy Falls into Dry Well and Uncovers Grandpa’s Secret Bunker on the Bottom – Story of the Day

Ben sat in the backseat of the family car, gazing out the window and upset about having to relocate to Grandpa’s house.

“You’ll love your new school, champ,” Dad said, looking at Ben’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “You’ll make new friends there in no time.”

“It’s not the same, Dad,” Ben sighed. “Back at home, Tommy, Jake, and I…we had this spot where we used to dig. We were looking for treasures. We never finished our excavations, and now I’m leaving them behind.”

“I know it’s tough, sweetie, but you’ll be fine,” Mom reached back, placing a comforting hand on Ben’s knee.

“I’ve heard that this city has many catacombs and tunnels underneath. How about we go on a tour together?” Dad suggested.

Ben nodded. But he knew nothing would be fun without his friends.

Soon, the car stopped, and they were at Grandpa’s old house.

“Well, it needs some fixes, doesn’t it?” Mom said, looking at the house. “But let’s look at the bright side: at least we don’t need to pay the rent anymore, and it’s three times bigger than our old home.”

“I don’t like it,” Ben snapped.

“Give it some time, champ,” Dad added. “It’ll feel like home once it’s cleaned.”

“Why don’t you play in the garden, Ben?” Mom opened the trunk and retrieved some boxes. “Explore a little?”

Ben shrugged and grabbed his backpack. Reaching the back of the house, Ben stared at a dark, deep forest. It looked intimidating enough for him to decide not to explore it. But as Ben turned around to leave, a faint whimpering noise stopped him.

Ben turned around and faced the woods. The noise was coming from the forest. It was unmistakably a puppy’s cry. Ben’s heart went out to the poor animal, and he entered the woods. The deeper he ventured into the forest, the louder the puppy’s cries became.

As he pushed through the underbrush, he stumbled upon a clearing where an old, abandoned well stood. It was built with large, weathered stones, half-covered with mosses and vines.

The cries echoed from the well, and as Ben peered inside, he saw a tiny puppy trapped at the bottom. The well wasn’t particularly deep, but deep enough that the young pup couldn’t climb out on its own.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you!” Ben told the pup and lay down on his stomach, extending his arm. But his fingers could only graze the tip of the puppy’s nose. If only he could reach a little more!

In the desperate attempt to rescue the pup, Ben lost his balance and fell into the well. He had no idea what happened in the next few minutes because he was unconscious. When he awoke, the puppy was licking his face.

Ben looked around. The well was too deep for him to climb out on his own. And it was no ordinary well. Ben noticed there was a tunnel entrance in one of the walls.

Ben recalled what Dad had mentioned about catacombs. Curiosity piqued, he retrieved his phone from his backpack. Turning on its flashlight, he began his exploration to see where the tunnel led. The puppy followed him.

Ben noticed that the tunnel walls had scratched writings—something from ancient times. He found it fascinating. Then, after walking for another 15 to 20 meters, he found himself in front of a wooden door.

The puppy, whom Ben named Buddy, whined beside him.

“Don’t worry, Buddy,” he said. “I got it.”

Taking a step back, Ben planted his foot firmly against the wall and gripped the door handle tightly. He could feel the door start to give way little by little as he tried to pull it.

Suddenly, he felt a stone shift beneath his foot. The wall beside the door began to crumble, sending a shower of rocks and dust all around. Ben managed to grab Buddy and leaped to his side, narrowly avoiding the cascading debris.

When the dust had settled and he looked up, Ben knew he was in trouble: The tunnel he’d come through was blocked.

“Mom! Dad! Can anyone hear me? Help!” Ben began to claw at the mound of earth and stone. But it was pointless. He would never be able to make a hole big enough to crawl out.

He quickly pulled out his phone, but there was no signal. Sitting back against the cool stone, Ben wondered what he would do now and noticed the wooden door was slightly ajar. Perhaps the door led to another way out, or maybe someone lived in these catacombs and could help him? A hope ignited in Ben.

The underground room behind the door was lined with shelves. It looked like a bunker. As Ben looked around the space, his phone beeped with a notification: “10% battery remaining.” Ben panicked. If his phone died, he’d be plunged into complete darkness.

Swiftly, he searched the shelves but didn’t find anything useful there. However, while looking through the lone cupboard in the room, his fingers brushed against a small box of matches. And next to it was an old gas lamp.

The lamp flickered to life as soon as his phone’s battery ran out. “At least we have light, Buddy,” Ben told the pup and sighed. He only had an apple and some water in his backpack.

“Don’t worry, Buddy. I’ll share my food with you,” he told the pup. “I’m sure Mom and Dad will find us.”

With nothing to do and plenty of time, Ben decided to explore the bunker further. He found some vintage items on the shelves, which piqued his interest. Suddenly, his hands landed on an old notebook.

Ben opened it, careful enough not to damage its fragile pages, and noticed the initial “J.T.” on the first page. They were Grandpa’s initials.

Ben couldn’t believe it.

“I think we’ve found something interesting, Buddy,” Ben told the pup, who was wagging its tail beside him. Grabbing a blanket, Ben made a makeshift bed and sat down, Buddy beside him, and began reading the notebook.

The first day they captured me and threw me into that camp felt like a bad dream. Cold steel fences, oppressive watchtowers, and the constant gaze of guards…I despised them. It was the day I managed to slip a spoon during lunch that I felt I could be close to freedom.

Every night, when the guards and other men would be asleep, I would be awake, digging under my cot with the spoon. The spoon wasn’t much, but it was all I had, and I had to put it to best use.

By day, I would wander the camp’s bleak perimeters, pretending to bask in the scant sunlight but studying every detail of our prison. The guards, their routines, the weak spots in the fences…Winter came, and the earth grew hard. But I didn’t lose hope.

As I dug, I would dream about the world outside, trying to recall every cherished memory of home. My hands, already calloused and scarred from the labor the captors forced upon us, bled frequently. But with each inch I carved out, my hope grew tenfold.

And one night, the moment I had been waiting for came. The tunnel was ready. Nine months of constant effort were a success now. Some men had joined me. We emerged, gasping in the chilly night air, beyond the camp’s oppressive barriers.

But freedom wasn’t easy. The world outside the camp was a vast expanse filled with its own perils. Avoiding enemy patrols, I moved from forest to forest, hiding by day and traveling by night. Food was scarce. Many times, I survived on berries and whatever small animals I could catch.

When I finally got home after two long months, my village was not as I remembered it. Enemy soldiers now patrolled the streets, casting shadows of terror wherever they went. The night I sneaked back to my house, I met my wife. She sobbed, thinking she had lost me forever.

Near the edge of my property, we dug out a bunker. It was crude, but it was safe. Hidden beneath layers of earth, it was my refuge. Here, in the dim light of candles, I wrote. I wrote about the camp, the tunnel, and the taste of freedom, however fleeting. Always remember: even in the darkest moments, never lose hope.

Ben was touched by his grandfather’s bravery. With the tiredness pressing down on him, he decided to doze off on the makeshift bed.

Ben could feel day had turned into night. He prayed to God as he closed his eyes, recalling how his mother always told him not to lose hope in tough times, and fell asleep.

Opening his eyes, Ben was met with complete darkness. The lamp was within his reach, so he lit it. His rumbling stomach reminded him he was hungry. So, he took the small knife from his backpack and sliced the apple, sharing a piece with Buddy. Ben was still in the bunker.

He scribbled his name and a note on the wall using his knife, describing how he was stuck. By night, the apple was exhausted, and so was the water. Another day went by, and he didn’t find any help. Ben dozed off that night, too. But when he awoke the next day, he knew he couldn’t wait for help.

He was tired, starving, weak. But he would find a way. Packing all the essentials, such as the gas lamps, matches, and knife, he began walking through the catacombs in an unknown direction. Buddy stayed behind him.

After every 15 meters or so, Ben craved a mark onto the cave wall—they would come in handy if he got lost. However, as he delved deeper into the catacombs, he couldn’t help but notice how the passages began to tighten around him.

Soon, he got down on his hands and knees, set his backpack and gas lamp down, and began to inch forward, pushing the bag and lamp ahead of him as he went.

After crawling for about 10 minutes, his hands encountered a cluster of large rocks and packed ground obstructing their way. Using the footholds he had crafted and summoning all his strength, he strained against the mass of rocks. His muscles ached and protested, but slowly, the stubborn barrier began to shift.

But before Ben would find safety, he tumbled forward into the unknown, bouncing off the hard grounds and rocks. Then he felt a sharp blow to his head, and it all went black.

Something moist—Buddy’s licks—awoke him. Ignoring the excruciating pain in his leg, Ben reached for the gas lamp that had fallen down with him and lit it. His heart sank when he noticed the enormous rock pinning his leg to the ground.

It was at that moment he surrendered. He cried for the first time in three days. He became aware of the blood under the giant rock—his blood. He lost consciousness once again. This time, when he awoke, his breathing was labored. He was hungry. When he saw Buddy, he saw food. Now he knew how Grandpa must’ve felt.

Ben grabbed his knife. He lifted it, but when Bunny licked his face, tears sprang into his eyes. No, he couldn’t kill his friend who had stayed by his side.

“This is it,” Ben thought and let himself fall into a deep sleep again. He was weak and bleeding profusely. He had lost the battle, he thought.

But Ben slowly opened his eyes as the sound of beeping machines became more evident. He heard someone calling a doctor, and soon, people rushed into his room.

When his eyes adjusted to the surroundings, he saw Mom and Dad.

“Oh, honey,” Mom and Dad hugged him. He was not dead. He was in the hospital.

“But how…how did you find me?” was a mystery to him.

Turns out, his parents stumbled upon the well and found his shovel at its bottom, which must have fallen from his backpack. They called the police and rescue workers. The workers found the tunnel, the catacombs, and the blocked passage. Then they met Buddy, whose barks led them to Ben.

Two weeks later…

Ben was in a wheelchair due to his broken leg. But he was home, and Buddy was there to welcome him. The doggo jumped on him, showering him with his salivary kisses. Ben couldn’t believe it.

“Buddy is family now,” Mom said.

“Really?” Ben asked. “So, can we keep him?

“Of course, honey!”

“Seems like you found a new friend,” Dad said.

Ben hugged Buddy close. Dad was right. Buddy was his first and most loyal friend in the new town.

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