Finding yourself in the witches’ front room, whilst carrying a conch shell oil lamp.

Arriving at dusk. The sun sets over the land and the full moon rises over the sea. There is a very distinct sense that someone has just been here. Not before, not when this was used as something else.

But very recently, just now. There is a slab of concrete carved out of the rock. A tunnel to the side which I could possibly escape through.