Oksana
Do you know that sinking feeling when you’re in your fifth year of college and start to realize it’s all been for nothing? When I first started at the Lviv Academy of Sculpture, I was this inspired, starry-eyed girl, full of dreams that got a little crushed under the weight of reality.
For starters, I was the only girl in the sculpture department, and my classmates mostly smirked at my efforts, never missing a chance to remind me that all the famous sculptors are men. Yeah, thanks, guys, for the reminder. Guess I’ll just have to be the first.
For some reason, everyone seemed to have an opinion about my business and my choices.
No matter how hard I tried to master the professional tools, I always felt most comfortable working with my hands and nails. Feeling the soft clay under my fingers, I’d slip into some kind of trance, spending hours on a project without a break for food, sleep, or even a quick touch-up in the mirror. My brain would shut off, and my hands would explore new horizons.
It was like it wasn’t even me—like someone else was guiding my movements.
I live for that feeling.
Then, one amazing day, I got an invitation to join an excursion to the Optimistic Cave in the Ternopil region. Local spelunkers had just uncovered new stretches of underground passages and were slowly setting up an underground museum. The gypsum caves were full of clay, which the organizers decided to use for decorative purposes—creating sculptures right there beneath the earth.
It was the perfect opportunity for enthusiastic students to work with incredible material and contribute to something extraordinary at the same time! So, I headed to the spelunkers’ camp, where I met a bunch of fascinating people—not just scientists, but other novice sculptors too.
Everyone there was a romantic, a dreamer.
Rational folks rarely venture into mysterious caves where half the tunnels are still uncharted. I was a little nervous at first, but then I stepped into this incredible realm of stalactites and underground lakes, and I was just blown away.
What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a cave?
A damp, dark place with a musty, unpleasant smell. But that had nothing to do with what I experienced in the Optimistic Cave.
I’d never breathed so freely, so easily. The pleasant coolness of the gypsum rock, the whimsical corridors, and even the massive underground halls that could easily fit dozens of people—it was unreal.
Of course, there were challenges and obstacles in this mysterious subterranean world. Without a flashlight, it was pitch black and eerily silent, which made some people uneasy. Especially tourists from big cities, where the noise of the streets is in their blood and lulls them to sleep.
The Optimistic Cave and I, we clicked. We found each other, because this is where I felt at home.
The spelunkers gave me complete freedom to design the clay sculptures, and it was just incredible! All my ideas were received with such enthusiasm and positivity that I was ready to live in the caves 24/7, never taking off my spelunking gear. At 22, I was seriously willing to ditch human interaction and dedicate myself entirely to the cave. It was my high, my freedom.
I finished my studies and moved to a village near the research team’s camp to keep working with the spelunkers. I spent so much time on excursions that when the number of tourists grew, they offered me a gig as a guide. It was an incredible honor because I truly knew every story, legend, and fun fact about each route by heart.
The people on the tours were all different, but mostly curious visitors coming back from the Carpathian Mountains and looking for a new adventure. Some just wanted to check off that they’d been to a place like this, while others were hardcore spelunkers ready to live an ascetic life for weeks, wandering through corridors and underground halls.
I felt like I belonged here. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
***
This morning, the spelunkers’ base was pretty quiet since part of our crew had headed out on an excursion to the Atlantis Cave near Zavallia in the Khmelnytskyi region. I was on duty along with a few other guys and gals. Andriy was on the phone with potential tourists for the day.
“Oksana, can you take a guy on the 11-hour tour?” he asked after hanging up.
“Sure, I’ll take him. Is he experienced? Eleven hours is a long haul right off the bat.”
“They say he’s an amateur. We’ll see when they get here.”
***
A few hours later, a Skoda pulled up to the camp, and two burly guys stepped out.
Both were tall and well-built, clearly no strangers to the gym. I couldn’t help but notice the blue-eyed brunette who looked kind of miserable. The blond, on the other hand, was all smiles, beaming as he started talking.
“Hey there, folks! I’m Oleg, the one who called earlier. This is my buddy Dmytro. He’s super shy, but he can’t wait to get started exploring the caves. Right, Dima?” he said, turning to the brunette.
“Yeah, sure,” my tourist grumbled.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Oksana, your guide for today. Come on in. We’ve got an hour of briefing, then we’ll gear up and head out. Good thing you got here early—11-hour tours need to wrap up before dark, so let’s not waste time.”
Honestly, something felt off. Dmytro didn’t seem thrilled about the idea of descending into the Optimistic Cave. Though, to be fair, nerves before a tour like this are pretty normal. Guys, especially big, broad-shouldered ones like him, often worry about getting stuck between rock walls, but in all the years of running these routes, that’s never happened. Not once.
Of course, we sometimes spook people with stories like that, especially on group tours. It’s to discourage anyone from lagging behind or getting lost. Though it’s happened before, we’ve always found them in time since we’ve got a strict registration system for every visitor. Professional approach and safety first.
These tours are pretty much the only source of income for the spelunking camp staff right now, though we’re also looking for sponsors. We promote the excursions, but without overdoing it, since there are limits on the number of visitors.
While I was briefing Dmytro, his friend was scoping out the place with a sly grin and had already managed to cozy up to some of the girls at the camp. Olena and Vika were throwing him flirty looks and giggling nonstop. I’ve never understood what women see in guys like that. It’s obvious he’s just a smooth talker, and you can’t trust a word he says.
Am I weird for not paying attention to guys when I’m working? And if you consider that I spend most of my life underground, knee-deep in clay, then yeah, I guess that says it all about me.
But I’m not really bothered by it. Not long ago, I had a pretty intimate thing going with Andriy from the camp. I was drawn to his passion for discovering new corridors. We explored a lot of routes just the two of us, but it fizzled out. I can’t give him what he wants. I like him, but it’s not love—not enough to drop everything and start a family.
Work means more to me. It’s closer to my heart. We still hang out sometimes, but for me, it’s more of a physical need. He, on the other hand, keeps hoping I’ll change my mind, realize what I’ve lost… I don’t know. That’s his choice, but I don’t see the point.
Finally, everything’s ready, and we can head out on the route. From the base, it’s about a ten-minute walk across a field, then another ten through the forest. The cool cave halls are a welcome relief from the August heat. The entrance to the cave looms in the distance, looking like a doorway to some magical, secret world straight out of a fantasy novel.
“Here’s your entrance to Wonderland, Alice!” I joke, trying to get Dmytro to open up. He’s been quiet the whole way, and we’ve got 11 hours ahead of us alone together. I need to establish at least some basic rapport.
“Yeah, yeah. Are the corridors really narrow?” he asks, sounding nervous, his voice trembling a bit.
“Just at the start, but after 10 or 15 minutes, you’ll be able to walk upright without bending over. We just have to crawl through a short tunnel first. Don’t worry, I’ll be ahead of you. You won’t get lost.”
“Uh-huh, okay. It’s just… you’re so small, and I’m a bit bigger. Plus, this ridiculous jumpsuit, helmet, and headlamp aren’t exactly filling me with confidence about this being safe,” he says, making me laugh.
“Trust me, Dmytro, you’ll fit through everywhere just fine, and you definitely won’t get stuck. But if you do, I’ll pull you out. Promise!” He gives me a skeptical look, and up close, I can’t help but notice the broad span of his athletic shoulders. My mind flashes to the glimpse I caught of his toned physique without a shirt while he was changing. Nothing weird, just a sculptor’s curiosity. He’d make an amazing model for a new sculpture—maybe a Greek god or something.
We descend into the first hall, and I lock the cave entrance behind us. It’s standard procedure to keep outsiders from wandering in since tours aren’t supposed to overlap unless they’re on different routes. I smile at Dmytro and gesture for him to turn on his headlamp.
“Ready to go?”
“Let’s do this,” he says, sounding a bit more confident now.
I’m buzzing with excitement, knowing I’m reconnecting with the cave. I crawl forward confidently, glancing back at Dmytro every now and then. He’s huffing a bit but keeping up, until I hear him ask me to slow down. Maybe he’s distracted by the gypsum cave walls? They’re honestly stunning, so I start telling him about the halls and lakes we’ve got ahead as part of the tour program.
Finally, we reach a spacious section of the route, where a clay statue of Poseidon, trident in hand, sits like a ruler in the middle of a large hall.
“Whoa, how’d they get this down here?” Dmytro marvels, and I chuckle.
“They didn’t. It was made right here by student sculptors. There are tons more like this along the way. Look over there—a mermaid!”
“Looks like you,” he points out, hitting the nail on the head.
“Yeah, that’s because I made it,” I admit, and he stares at me, wide-eyed.
“You’re a sculptor?”
“Yup, by training. But as you can see, the caves stole my heart, so I stayed. Have you noticed how easy it is to breathe down here?”
“Yeah, it’s weird. Where are those creepy caves you read about in books?”
“This is it, buddy. Fear just makes things seem scarier than they are. Take a look around, snap some pics if you want. Then we’ll move on to the next part of the tour. We’ll have to wiggle a bit to squeeze through some rocks,” I say, and I swear I catch a flicker of fear in his eyes.
For photos, Dmytro only needs a couple of minutes. No appreciation for beauty! With girls, you practically have to drag them out of here because they’ll come up with every pose imaginable for their shots. Poseidon’s lips and torso have been rubbed so much we’ve had to restore him three times. Good thing the material’s right here. But this guy? He couldn’t care less. Who am I even trying for?
Though, he did take a picture of the mermaid with my face!
And that felt nice.
We move through a section where you have to squeeze sideways. Not expecting any issues, I push forward until I hear:
“Oksana, I think I’m stuck,” he says, sounding calm but with a slight edge of panic.
“No way, let’s figure this out.”
But I can see he’s starting to freak out. Instead of staying calm and carefully sliding through sideways, he’s trying to turn and face forward, which is physically impossible in this position. All he needs to do is adjust a little, the dummy!
“Damn it, Oleg!” he yells, clearly not at me, followed by a string of curses.
Good grief, does he have claustrophobia or something? Some tough guy. He’s thrashing around like a trapped animal, only making it worse for himself. He could seriously hurt himself on the rock. He’s flailing his arms, but he’s wedged in tight—at least, that’s what he thinks. I can’t think of anything better to do than to step closer and slap him.
A good, sharp smack.
Seems like he’s stopped struggling. Man, what’s with guys these days? Why even come down here if you’re scared?
I’m fuming, and I’m not the only one.
He glares at me, his eyes burning with anger, cheeks flushed red. It’s almost scary.
Should I just leave him here?
Sigh…
I step closer. Let’s figure out how to get this big lug out.