The sunset tinged MasTorrencito with an orange glow, and everything seemed calm, except for the main entrance, where the works had taken a completely unexpected turn. The Enigma Under More Torrents
Two of the workers looked nervously at each other beside the hole they had dug, while I approached with Jordi. Their dogs, Lluna and Quinto, stayed close by, alert, while mine-Masto, Maky, Mastitwo and Mamas-were restless, something unusual for them.
-What’s the matter? -I asked, my tone more annoyed than curious. The work was already behind schedule, and the last thing I needed was another problem.
-Look at this, Mr. Miguel,” said one of the workers, pointing to the floor.
What lay beneath the rotten plank they had erected was a gaping hole. Not a simple sinkhole, but the entrance to something much deeper. Iron stairs descended into the darkness, rusted but intact, as if they had been there for decades.
-This was not in the plans. -Jordi’s voice sounded firm, but the surprise was evident.
I leaned into the hole, trying to illuminate it with the flashlight of my cell phone. I could barely make out the stairs descending into pitch blackness.
-Did anyone come down? -I asked.
The workers quickly shook their heads. One of them even backed away, muttering something about “not wanting any trouble.”
-There’s no reception down here,” said Jordi, picking up his cell phone. -Nothing. Not even a bar. I don’t like this.
I looked at my dogs. They were usually the first to explore any corner, but now they were restless. Mamas even backed away, growling low. Lluna and Quinto weren’t much better; Lluna stood next to Jordi, ears straining.
-This is stranger than it looks,” I muttered, feeling a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness.
First steps. The Enigma Under More Torrents
We decided to go down. We tied a rope to one of the rafters at the entrance, but the stairs seemed firm enough. Jordi insisted that he would go first, but my usual stubbornness made it clear.
-I’m going down. You stay with the dogs. If anything happens, go upstairs and call for help.
Jordi let out a nervous laugh.
-We have no coverage, and I doubt the workers will volunteer.
-That’s why it’s better if only one of us goes down. -I tried to sound more confident than I felt.
The stairs were cold and slippery to the touch. I descended carefully, step by step, as the air grew heavier and more humid. Every sound I made as I stepped echoed, amplifying in the darkness. My cell phone’s flashlight barely illuminated enough to see the bottom of the stairs.
-All right? -Jordi shouted from above, his voice sounding far away.
-Yes, but this… is deep. Very deep.
As I reached the ground, I pointed the flashlight around. What I saw left me speechless. A narrow, elongated tunnel stretched in both directions, with walls of packed earth and roots hanging down like twisted claws. The air was laden with a metallic smell, mixed with moisture and something I couldn’t identify.
Jordi came down shortly after, his flashlight illuminating the tunnel with nervous flashes.
-This is no mere cave,” he said, inspecting the walls. -It looks… built. As if someone had carved this.
-Built for what?
We advanced cautiously, our flashlights illuminating just a few meters ahead. After walking about twenty meters, the tunnel widened, revealing a small room. There was a worn wooden table in the center, surrounded by benches. On one of the walls, glass bottles were embedded, forming something that looked like a sort of makeshift wine cellar.
-This is surreal,” Jordi muttered, approaching the bottles. Some were filled with a dark liquid, while others were empty or broken.
-It’s as if this were a meeting room… or something like that.
I approached one of the walls. There were engraved symbols, marks that I could not recognize. They didn’t seem to be decorative; there was something more intentional about them.
-This has been here for decades, if not longer. But why didn’t anyone know about this? Jordi illuminated another part of the room, where dust-covered boxes were piled up.
The boxes. The Enigma Under More Torrents
We opened the first one. It was empty, but when we opened the second one, we found something wrapped in a cloth. Jordi unfolded it, and we both stared at it in silence.
-Is it… a grenade? -he asked, although we both knew the answer.
It was an old grenade, with rusted metal but intact. We kept opening boxes: some contained more grenades, old guns and other things we could not identify.
-This is not a simple cellar. It’s a hideout,” I said, feeling the tension rise in my chest.
Suddenly, a thud echoed from the tunnel through which we had come. We both turned at the same time, pointing our flashlights into the darkness.
-What was that? -asked Jordi, taking a step back.
-I don’t know, but I don’t like it.
Then we saw it: a metal door, half hidden behind some fallen planks. It looked old, with rust covering the frame. We tried to open it, but it was locked. Jordi found an iron bar next to the table and, after several attempts, we managed to force it open.
On the other side, a second tunnel extended downward. This one was narrower and seemed much older. The air was freezing, and the metallic smell was even more intense.
-This leads to the forest. I’m sure,” said Jordi.
-And… the other tunnel? -I asked, pointing to a fork that was barely visible in the gloom.
Before we could decide what to do, we heard something new: a steady drip coming from the darkest tunnel. The sound mingled with the barking of our dogs, which now echoed from above, like a chorus of warning.
-Miguel, let’s get out of here. This is not normal.
-Let me take a quick look in the dark tunnel. If we don’t find anything, we’ll come back.
-That sounds like a lousy idea, but do what you want. I’ll wait for you here.
I took a step into the darkest tunnel, but before I could go any further, a deep noise, as if something heavy had fallen, interrupted us. It came from the distillery room.
Jordi looked at me, and his expression said what I didn’t want to admit: we were not alone down there.
Echoes of the Unknown
The crash echoed through the tunnel as if something immense had collapsed. We both pointed our flashlights toward the way back, but the darkness seemed to devour the light. The air became thicker, and the temperature dropped a few degrees palpably.
-What was that? -asked Jordi, in a whisper that barely hid his nervousness.
-I don’t know, but I don’t like it at all. Maybe… something fell out of the boxes.
I tried to sound reasonable, but deep down I knew that explanation didn’t fit. There was no wind, no air currents moving anything down there. Slowly, we made our way back to the distillery room, our ears alert for any other sounds.
When we arrived, nothing seemed out of place. The boxes were still where we had left them, the rusty still remained in its corner, and the bottles embedded in the wall were still covered in dust. But then, I noticed something different: the metal door we had forced was now slightly closed.
-It wasn’t like that before,” Jordi muttered, taking a step back.
-It’s impossible. There was no one else down here.
I approached slowly, with the flashlight focused on the rusted frame. The door wasn’t closed all the way, but it had shifted position, as if something-or someone-had pushed it. The thought gave me goose bumps.
-Miguel, let’s go out. This is no longer a curious adventure. This is fucking weird.
-Hold on a little longer. I want to know what’s beyond.
Jordi looked at me as if I was crazy, but he agreed, more for not leaving me alone than for enthusiasm.
We crossed the metal door and followed the descending tunnel. The ground was cleaner, as if someone had maintained it. After a few meters, we came to a fork. One path seemed to lead up into the forest, where we could already feel the distant breeze and the rustle of dry leaves. The other, narrower and darker, descended into the depths.
-This one seems to lead outside,” said Jordi, pointing to the upward tunnel.
-And this one… I don’t know. But if someone used this place, the important thing would not be near the exit.
-Are you listening to yourself? This is not a game. We already found guns, grenades… what more do you need to realize that this is dangerous?
Despite his words, Jordi did not leave me alone. We went down the darkest tunnel, where the air was getting colder and colder. After a sharp turn, the flashlight illuminated something new: a second room.
New rooms. The Enigma Under Mas Torrencito
This one was larger than the previous one, and much more disturbing. In the center was a long table, surrounded by worn benches. It looked like a meeting space, but it was covered in dust, as if it hadn’t been used in decades. Strangest of all, however, were the walls.
Throughout the room, bottles were embedded in the ground, forming almost perfect rows. Some were filled with dark liquids, while others contained what appeared to be rolled up papers. It was as if someone had hidden messages or records in them.
-This is no longer just a hideout. It’s… something more. -Jordi approached one of the bottles, but didn’t dare touch it.
I inspected the table. There were marks, scratches and symbols carved into the wood, similar to those we had seen in the first room. There was also something that looked like ash accumulated at one end.
-What were they doing here? -I asked aloud, although I knew no one had an answer.
Jordi checked a corner where more boxes were stacked. When he opened one, he found something that made him call me immediately.
-Miguel, come take a look at this!
Inside the box were more weapons, but this time in better condition. There were knives, several pistols and what appeared to be some kind of map, although it was so deteriorated that the markings were barely distinguishable. Among the weapons was also a small, leather-covered notebook with yellowed pages.
-This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. -Jordi flipped through the notebook, but the pages were full of scribbles and notes in a language we didn’t recognize. Some were stained with what appeared to be dried blood.
Suddenly, another thump resounded, this time from the tunnel we had come through. But it was not an isolated sound. It sounded like something slowly crawling toward us.
-Miguel? -Jordi’s voice was a whisper. We both instinctively turned off our flashlights.
The tunnel was in total darkness, and the only sound was the echo of something approaching.
-We are not alone…” I murmured.
-What do we do? -asked Jordi.
-Take the notebook and anything useful. We’re going through the tunnel that goes up to the forest.
Left or right…? The Enigma Under More Torrents
We both moved quickly. Jordi put the notebook and a knife in his backpack, while I grabbed the flashlight and shone it into the tunnel leading outside. The cool breeze was a relief, but it also made our shadows dance on the walls.
-Run! -I shouted, as I heard the dragging sound getting louder.
We ran toward the ascending tunnel, our breaths echoing in the narrow space. The barking of our dogs sounded distant, as if sensing something was wrong.
When we finally saw the exit, the light outside seemed like a beacon of hope. We hurried toward it, emerging into a small clearing in the forest. The dogs, who had been barking desperately from above, surrounded us, relieved to see us.
-What the hell was that? -asked Jordi, panting.
-I don’t know. But we’re going to find out.
We turned toward the tunnel entrance, expecting to see something come out. But nothing happened. Only the breeze and the rustle of the trees broke the silence.
-It’s not over, Jordi. Something is hidden down there. And I don’t know if I want to know what it is.
Traces of History
The forest greeted us with an eerie silence. Daylight filtered through the treetops, but the atmosphere was still charged with tension. The dogs surrounded Jordi and me, uneasy but relieved to see us out of the tunnel.
-What do we do now? -asked Jordi, still breathing heavily. -All this… I can’t get that noise out of my head, as if something was following us.
-We have to go back. But this time better prepared. -I took out the notebook Jordi had put in his backpack and flipped through the pages. The text, mostly illegible, was dotted with drawings that looked like blueprints or diagrams.
There was something peculiar about one of the maps: it depicted a subway route that coincided with the farm. A symbol marked in the center caught my attention: a star surrounded by arrows. I didn’t know what it meant, but something told me that we hadn’t seen everything down there.
The next day, with better equipment and a small handheld camera, we returned to the tunnel. This time, the dogs did not accompany us. It was evident that they sensed something that we could not perceive. Jordi and I descended the iron stairs, with more powerful flashlights and a mixture of fear and determination.
We quickly advanced to the room where we had found the weapons and grenades. Upon closer inspection of the walls, we noticed that some recessed bottles contained small cylinders of rolled paper. Carefully, we opened one. The paper, yellowed and brittle, had a message written on it in Catalan:
“Lluitarem fins al final. Ningú podrà apagar la llum de la llibertat.”
(We will fight to the end. No one will be able to extinguish the light of freedom).
-This is not just any hiding place,” Jordi murmured, looking around with renewed interest. -It’s as if they had left traces on purpose.
-This is from the Civil War, maybe even from the years of Franco’s repression,” I added. My voice trembled, not out of fear, but because of the magnitude of what we were discovering.
We continued advancing towards the second tunnel, the one that descended deeper. This time, we went more slowly, stopping to inspect every detail. A few meters away, we found something that left us speechless: a second, much larger room, with a solid wooden table and papers scattered on it.
There were rolled-up posters with anti-Franco phrases and drawings depicting political figures. In the center of the table, a dossier bore a name written in red ink: Lluís Companys.
-This… This can’t be true. -Jordi took the dossier with trembling hands. Inside were a series of documents: handwritten letters, signatures of different leaders of the Republican exile and annotations mentioning secret meetings.
-If this is authentic, we are in front of something historic. -My voice barely came out, caught between disbelief and excitement.
In one of the letters, we read something that made our blood run cold:
“This refuge is safe. Here, the Romanian hope will be hidden until Catalonia is able to change again”.
(This refuge is safe. Here, hope remains hidden until Catalonia can rise again).
The room also contained a wall with hidden compartments. Opening one, we found more papers, this time filled with anti-Franco propaganda: pamphlets denouncing the regime and calling for resistance.
As we explored, another sound echoed from the tunnel: a deep echo, like an approaching creak. We immediately switched off our flashlights, standing still in the gloom.
-Miguel, tell me this is not what I think it is. -Jordi whispered, his eyes fixed on the darkness.
-I don’t know… But we can’t stay here.
With the dossier and some of the most relevant documents, we began to backtrack towards the exit. But when we reached the junction where the tunnel ascended into the forest, we noticed something strange: the metal door was closed.
-Who closed it? -asked Jordi, looking around in panic.
-I don’t know, but if someone is down here with us, I’m not going to stick around to find out.
We forced the door with all our might until it finally gave way. As we ran towards the exit, one last detail caught my attention: an engraving on a nearby wall. It was a rudimentary portrait, carved in stone, clearly depicting Lluís Companys.
When we reached the forest, the fresh air was like a balm. The dogs ran towards us, as if they knew something had been wrong. Jordi and I collapsed on the ground, exhausted, but we knew this was just the beginning.
-This can’t stay down here,” I said, looking at the documents in my hands. -Someone has to know what we found.
The Reward of the Past
That night we couldn’t sleep. We spent hours going through the documents, trying to make sense of it all. One of the most revealing texts mentioned a secret meeting in the last days of Lluís Companys before his capture. Although there was no definitive proof, it seemed to suggest that he had used that place as a temporary refuge.
We also found a map indicating an exact point inside the tunnel, marked with the same symbol we had seen before: a star surrounded by arrows.
-We have to go back. -My determination was unshakable.
The next day, we returned to the tunnel, this time accompanied by a metal detector and digging tools. Following the map, we reached a point where the ground seemed softer. After hours of work, we discovered a hidden compartment.
Inside was a metal box, sealed but in good condition. We opened it carefully, and what we found inside took our breath away: a personal diary of Lluís Companys. Each page was filled with entries about his exile, his thoughts on the struggle for freedom and strategies for keeping hope alive.
But there was something else: a golden medal with the coat of arms of Catalonia and an engraved message:
“La llum no es pot apagar.”
(The light cannot be turned off.).
We decided to hand over the findings to a trusted historian, who confirmed the authenticity of the documents. What we had found was not only an invaluable testimony of the anti-Francoist resistance, but also a direct connection to the figure of Companys.
Months later, the find was officially recognized, and Mas Torrencito became a historic site. The estate, which had harbored secrets for decades, was now a symbol of the struggle for freedom.
Jordi and I, together with our dogs, used to visit the tunnel, although we could never get rid of the feeling that we were not alone. But this time, fear was replaced by a deep respect for those who had risked everything to keep hope alive.
And so Mas Torrencito ceased to be just a farm. It became a refuge of memory and resistance.
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