We talked about scaling the water tower. A flight of steps lead up to the next
floor, but it was lose, and the middle steps had broken off. Another flight of
stone steps curved down into the tunnel network; Hellingly’s tower was utterly cool.
At that point, the sky went black, and the wind started to howl through the asylum. More doors starting banging
and the noise increased around us dramatically. Rain started to fall. “It’s time to abort” I said. “I won’t be
in a derelict building when it rains. That’s when structures collapse. And I’m not happy being in here at all.”
Other explorers talk about it. The moment when you feel OK, you think everything’s alright, and suddenly, for no
perceptible reason, you know it’s time to go. I’ve always listened to that inner voice. And other others agreed.
It was time to leave.
