File photo of the first confirmed casualty of SCP-3572. Picture dated 1924, specific date unavailable.
Foreword: The following entries have been transcribed due to the age of the document in question. Some entries prior to the subject's entombment, or those that include no reference to SCP-3572 have been truncated entirely.
January 13th, 1925
Finally, some luck! Mr. Doyel has given me permission to explore his property in search of a new cave. I agreed to promise him fifty per-cent of all the profits should I find a suitable location for a new tourist attraction. I have only had a cursory look over the property, but there are some promising cliffs I intend to further investigate tomorrow.
January 20th, 1925
The cliffs indeed yielded a cave, though the interior of it is far from spacious. I couldn't quite find a way through the initial passageway, but I can tell from the echoes that there must be a sizeable cave behind it. I can only hope for better luck tomorrow. Assuming I can even find the larger chamber, the passageway would have to be widened to make it a suitable attraction, though I suppose I am getting ahead of myself.
January 24th, 1925
This cave is truly incredible, the grandest I have ever seen. The interior is high and arched like a church ceiling, and the surrounding tunnels are so full of crystals and fine, gorgeous rock. The cave was so lovely I would share it for free if I could, if only so more could see it. The initial descent must be much sharper than I suspected, for the roof of the central chamber is so high I should think it would breach the ground above it. The interior floor is unfortunately covered in fine dirt and sand, which should be removed or cleaned to make the attraction more palatable.
Given the sand inside, I have christened it Sand Cave and I will spend some days exploring for another entrance on the property. If I can find none however, I'll push in and see if the tunnel can be widened.
January 28th, 1925
I scarcely dare to write this entry, but the thoughts roiling in my brain will give me no relief until I put them to paper. Perhaps not even then, but I must try.
The initial entrance was just as impassible when I returned to Sand Cave today, but the inside was very different indeed. The quartz on the walls had rendered itself into even more extensive patterns. Were it not for the markers I placed outside and the familiarity of squeezing through the tight entrance, I would have thought it was a new cave entirely. The central chamber had further developed both upwards and downwards, and the formation of rocks became a loose set of stairs descending. Though the impossibility of what my eyes presented to me was evident, I felt compelled to explore. I am not a man to turn down adventure, even if it is strange and fantastical.
As I walked down the stairs, exploring the intricate patterns on the walls, I was compelled quite strongly to wonder about the future. As if the cave was speaking to me, I thought that this place, this wonderful cave, would be everything I had been looking for. It would be victory for my family in the Cave Wars, we would have our attraction and everyone would be well provided for. But at the same time I felt a call to stay in this cave. I found myself thinking of the rifle back at the house, and how easy it would be to make sure I stayed in Sand Cave for-ever. I reached the bottom of the steps, and the sand on the floor was even thicker than the last time I'd been inside.
There was something there, a bit like a totem, or a great big wooden nail driven into the earth. Something black was around the base of it. It looked a bit like oil, but it was solid as all the rest of the rocks. It might have been pitch that oozed out and went solid somehow. When I went to touch it there was a great gust of wind from somewhere deeper in the cave, and I very nearly dropped my lantern. Lowering the light let me see a ring of quartz around the base of the totem. I can't imagine how long that thing must have been there to have crystal all mixed up in it, but that was far from the most disturbing part.
There were a great many words written on the wood, with dates that went back years and years. Some were written in some kind of Indian language, I think, and there were pictures drawn, crudely, to go with them. The ones in English had names, and dates, and then strange phrases. I transcribed one, since it rang a bell before I left the cave. They were all long since passed, judging from the dates.
That was when I found my name written, as if an epitaph, in the wood, and it had my birth-day, and it had a date not too far from now.
I was gripped by panic seeing my name there and I made to leave. The climb back up seemed much harsher than the one going down, and I was only just able to leave in time. The entrance was just as pressing as it had been, and I squeezed through, but barely, and my lantern was extinguished by the time I finished the crawl. I felt certain for a moment squeezing through the cave that all would be lost, but I made it through alright eventually. I spent some time outside, exhausted by my rapid ascent and panic, feeling the wind on my face.
I have reflected on the event, after a stiff drink, and I think Sand Cave is not worth it. I will return in two days time, with blasting caps and I think two sticks should do to close the entrance and make sure it stays closed. I'll tell Mr. Doyel I found nothing, and thank him for his time, and hope no one passes the barricade I will make.
The sand from the cave floor is in my hair, and I can't seem to wash it out.
January 30th, 1925
I have Failed and I will likely die here
February 1st, 1925
As this is likely my last will and testament, such as it is, I will explain further.
I attempted to dynamite the entrance to the cave but I had the most terrible fortune. A bit of rock shifted, burying and smothering my fuse, and then not long after a rock fell from the ceiling and crushed my detonator. I spent two hours fully attempting to detonate and found that something would go wrong each and every time until I gave up.
The whole time the blasted cave has whispered to me. I can't get the damned sand out of my hair.
When I tried to leave, I met unfortunate difficulties. The entrance collapsed inward. I was squeezing through the scant entrance tunnel when I dropped my lantern, and going to grab it, the cave collapsed further underneath me and a boulder of some size dropped behind me. My leg is pinned, tilted upwards. I suspect it would take several strong men to free me, and only if they had the space to work with.
My lantern is once again drawing low. I will save it in hopes I can signal if someone comes looking before I expire.
February 4th, 1925
They have begun efforts to extricate me. I count my blessings that I was found at all, but I suspect I will still die. The cave continues to shift where they are trying to dig, and when I lie awake at night, shivering and pressed to the rock, I can feel the cavern stirring beneath me. I have remained calm and cordial with those involved, but in some ways I wish they would let me go, if only so that they should forget about this cave.
Now, it calls me by name.
The following entry is undated. The handwriting is markedly different from other entries, and was written entirely in capital letters.
THEY WILL NEVER REACH ME IN TIME
IT COULD SAVE ME
I WANTED TO EXPLORE ALL THAT LIES BENEATH
THERE ARE SO MANY CAVES LEFT TO DISCOVER
ALL I HAVE TO DO IS AGREE
The following entry is undated. The writing is erratic and does not match the lines of the book.
Whoever finds this, if you're reading it, I did not write that!
My journal is covered in this damned sand. Did you write it yourself or did you force my hand you rotten craggy bastard?
I will survive. I will escape. You will be forgotten. Go chase yourself you misera [The writing trails off the page.]
February 9th, 1925
I have been fed and watered by my would-be rescuers, but this is of little comfort to me. Laying here, in my own filth, with a handful of sand in front of my face, the cave has told me it could put me to my end mercifully. I no longer know if I am fully sane. It says they cannot rescue you. It says I am your only hope. IT SAYS- I will write no more on the matter. It has said quite enough.
I wonder how people will remember me. I'm told my story is known across all forty-eight states now, thanks to Mr. Miller coming down into the cave to give me an interview. Even now they work at digging, and it is only by the faint light of their lanterns that I can write. I did not travel with a partner, nor did I have a second lamp, nor did I tell anyone where I was going and for how long. I worry I will be found, upon reflection, to be a dunce who did not care for his own safety. It is not the end I would have chosen. I know what I want on my grave, I only worry I will never have the opportunity, now.
The following two entries were written in an untidy hand that is at times entirely indecipherable. It is believed that the subject no longer had any form of external light with which to write and was using some amount of guesswork.
February 9th, I believe
I'm trapped, and trapped for life!
The cave shifted again, and I can no longer see those digging. I can hear them working frantically but moreso I can hear the whispers. I worry [illegible] mistake but I fear I have no choice. I will grant them a few more days to try and reach me. Let it not be said that I'm a damned quitter!
But after that I will make my demands and the sand will [rest of entry illegible]
The 10th, or so
I want people to see my face and know my name all around the world.
No man or woman or child should suffer as long as I have suffered [Illegible] keep exploring the caves of the world, for Ever [Illegible] and get your damned sand out of my hair!
The following entry was not dated. It alternates between the hand the majority of the journal is written in, and the other, present in a previous entry.
I had no idea.
The cave has shifted again and while I cannot find the strength to move, I can see now, by the luminescence of the crystals. They shine, and shimmer, with an unnatural light. I suspect I'm not in Kentucky.
CAVE OF SWORDS.
Cave of lights more like it. It's gorgeous. I could stare at it for a thousand years.
I COULD.
I'd like to look a little longer. I wish everyone could see this.
BUT THEY WON'T SEE, NOT [Illegible] OR AS I WILL.
The following and final entry was not dated and was written diagonally across the majority of one page. Upon initial inspection, the entirety of the page was covered in sand, which fell away not long after the journal was open. The approximate date of writing, based on analysis, is February 13th, 1925.
I AGREE