An original photograph taken by the author inside Derinkuyu Underground City, where silence seems to hold an unseen presence.
Presence arrives before sound.
That was the thought that came.
Nothing had been heard.
Nothing seen.
Still—something was there.
The darkness felt deeper than before.
The corridor bent tightly.
Stone pressed close to his shoulders.
The ceiling low enough that each breath returned to him off the wall.
Barış stood before the stone door.
The short scratches from before.
The fragment in his hand.
The faint, claw-like sound behind him.
None of it had ended.
He knew the way back.
A few steps, and there would be voices again.
Guides speaking.
Footsteps.
Morning light.
His feet didn’t move.
He kept looking into the corridor.
At first, it was only darkness.
Then—if he stayed with it—
it felt like something inside that darkness was looking back.
“Are you there?”
His voice was small.
No answer.
But the silence shifted, just slightly.
He paused.
Who had he spoken to?
His father.
The dog.
Or this place itself.
The walls were marked with old soot.
Someone had lit fires here, long ago.
People had held their breath.
Held their children.
Waited for footsteps above to pass.
A place to hide.
To protect.
To live without being heard.
That silence carried something.
It felt close to his father.
Had his father been running from something?
Or protecting someone?
No answer.
Barış opened his hand.
The fragment was almost invisible in the dark.
Only the roughness remained under his fingers.
He could take it back.
Photograph it.
Show it.
Search for meaning.
But he didn’t want to.
Something found here wouldn’t stay the same above ground.
He brought the fragment closer to the stone door.
Not to return it.
Just to place it there.
Then—
the air ahead moved.
Not wind.
There was no wind here.
Not sound.
Still—something came closer.
His body locked.
Cold stone under his feet.
Stiffness in his fingers.
Dryness in his throat.
Fear.
But not only that.
Something familiar.
Something known, without words.
His father’s shoes at the door.
The silence when his mother stopped speaking.
That moment in the valley, when he knew he was being watched.
All of it was here.
He turned slowly.
The corridor was empty.
No one.
But low in the darkness, one part looked denser than the rest.
Hard to see.
Easy to feel.
Something was there.
He stepped back.
Not to run.
To measure the distance.
Nothing moved.
Or—it felt that way.
He couldn’t see it, yet he knew.
He steadied his breath.
“What are you trying to show me?”
The words came out before he thought.
Show.
Not chase.
Not attack.
Show.
Why that word?
He didn’t know.
But one thing was clear.
There was no hostility.
That was the strange part.
No hostility—and still, it was frightening.
Frightening—and still, he couldn’t leave.
That was what unsettled him most.
A faint sound came from deeper inside.
Like claws brushing stone.
Once.
He narrowed his eyes.
Nothing.
Still—closer than before.
Closer than yesterday.
Closer than before.
And this time, the sound didn’t fade.
The presence remained.
Low.
Quiet.
Alive between the stone walls.
He tightened his grip on the fragment.
Take it back.
Put it back.
Go forward.
Turn around.
It wasn’t a big decision.
Just one step.
Just a little closer.
But he knew.
This step wasn’t just a step.
Closer to his father’s trace.
Closer to that presence.
Closer to what he had avoided.
All of it, in one movement.
He moved forward.
One step.
Stone sounded softly under his shoe.
The presence didn’t retreat.
Another step.
This time, something answered from ahead.
Not claws.
Not footsteps.
Something heavier.
A shift in silence itself.
He stopped.
Low in the dark, a faint outline seemed to form.
Maybe the light.
Maybe his eyes.
Still—
something was breathing there.
Not large.
Not rough.
Quiet.
Steady.
Waiting.
Inside his chest, fear changed shape.
Not gone.
Not trust.
But no longer only fear.
For the first time, he didn’t look away.
Time stretched.
Or seemed to.
Maybe only seconds passed.
Then—
voices, far away.
Tourists.
Laughter.
A guide speaking.
Ordinary sounds.
They made this place feel less ordinary.
The world was close.
Right there.
But Barış stood outside it.
He put the fragment into his pocket.
Not to take it.
Just—he couldn’t let it go.
He looked ahead once more.
The presence remained.
Quietly waiting for what he would do next.
He let out a small breath.
“…Okay.”
He didn’t know what that meant.
But the moment he said it—
the shadow ahead shifted.
This time, clearly.
Still not a shape.
Still no name.
But no longer just “something.”
There was
someone
there.
