Man kept hearing strange noises under driveway, but when he made a hole benath, he found something terrifying… “I want everyone to see what happened” Look what he found inside: check in comments👇👇

Simon Marks, 37, thought he had driven onto flowerbed when the wheels of his car got stuck in a hole…

Looking at the damage he’s done on his car he though “well, this day couldn’t get any worse.”

As he was about to take a closer look to the damage, he heard the sickening sound that made his heart race. What the hell was that?

Watch the tour of the shelter:

Kneeling down to take a closer look, Simon saw that the pavers of the driveway had cracked, and then right in front of him, the driveway began to give in.

The pavers kept on cracking with an eerie sound, and it opened to a whole new revelation.

The dirt gave way easily and he could see a piece of metal underneath.

He uncovered it with bare hands until he was able to grip it and pulled with all his strength but to no avail.

He decided to go around and uncover as much as he can from the puzzle surrounding a mysterious object.

Simon called for help. His father came along and together they carted away buckets of densely-packed mud.

Finally they saw an opening and climbed down a rusty, old ladder to investigate the hole in the ground.

“My dad saw it and instantly said it’s an air raid shelter,” Simon said. “We googled it and found there are quite a few in this area.”

After a thorough investigation online, Simon found out that the shelter had been built during WW2! “The previous owner must have known it was there and when he built the house and put a garden in… he must have filled it in,” Simon told the reporters.

During WW2, a man named Sir John Anderson was tasked to devise a strategy to protect its citizens from the onslaught and bombings that they knew were coming.

His strategy was to build these underground shelters.

“One of the walls has been bricked up. I’m 90 percent sure we won’t find out any more rooms but we don’t know. They might have bricked up one of the walls when the house was built to make way for the foundations,”

Simon told reporters. “If that’s the case we’ll just have to leave it,” he added. But it wasn’t long before the discovery went viral.

Simon and his father plan to restore the shelter and preserve it — they hope that one day it will be declared an important and historical monument.

They believe that just because the war is over and long past, the period shouldn’t be forgotten.

They hope this little physical piece of those difficult times will be a place people can visit and see a tiny glimpse of that part of history.

Please SHARE this amazing discovery with your Family and Friends!

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Nobody expected fifty bikers at my son\’s funeral. Least of all the four teenagers who put him there. I\’m not a crier. Twenty-six years as a high school janitor taught me to keep my emotions locked down tight. But when that first Harley rumbled into the cemetery parking lot, followed by another, then another, until the whole place vibrated with thunder—that\’s when I finally broke. My fourteen-year-old boy, Mikey, had hanged himself in our garage. The note he left mentioned four classmates by name. \”I can\’t take it anymore, Dad,\” he\’d written. \”They won\’t stop. Every day they say I should kill myself. Now they\’ll be happy.\” The police called it \”unfortunate but not criminal.\” The school principal offered \”thoughts and prayers\” then suggested we have the funeral during school hours to \”avoid potential incidents.\” I\’d never felt so powerless. Couldn\’t protect my boy while he was alive. Couldn\’t get justice after he was gone. Then Sam showed up at our door. Six-foot-three, leather vest, gray beard down to his chest. I recognized him—he pumped gas at the station where Mikey and I would stop for slushies after his therapy appointments. \”Heard about your boy,\” he said, standing awkward on our porch. \”My nephew did the same thing three years back. Different school, same reason.\” I didn\’t know what to say, so I just nodded. \”Thing is,\” Sam continued, looking past me like the words hurt to say, \”nobody stood up for my nephew. Not at the end, not after. Nobody made those kids face what they did.\” He handed me a folded paper with a phone number. \”You call if you want us there. No trouble, just… presence.\” I didn\’t call. Not at first. But the night before the funeral, I found Mikey\’s journal. Pages of torment. Screenshots of text messages telling my gentle, struggling son to \”do everyone a favor and end it.\” My hands shook as I dialed the number. \”How many people you expecting at this funeral?\” Sam asked after I explained. \”Maybe thirty. Family, some teachers. None of his classmates.\” \”The ones who bullied him—they coming?\” \”Principal said they\’re planning to, with their parents. To \’show support.\’\” The words tasted like acid. Sam was quiet for a moment. \”We\’ll be there at nine. You won\’t have to worry about a thing.\” I didn\’t understand what he meant until I saw them the next morning—a sea of leather vests, weathered faces, and solemn eyes. The Hell\’s Angels patches visible as they formed two lines leading to the small chapel, creating a corridor of protection. The funeral director approached me, panic in his eyes. \”Sir, there are… numerous motorcycle enthusiasts arriving. Should I call the police?\” \”They\’re invited guests,\” I said. When the four boys arrived with their parents, confused expressions turned to fear as they saw the bikers. Sam stepped forward and…. Check out the first comment to read the full story

Nobody expected fifty bikers at my son’s funeral. Least of all the four teenagers who put him there. I’m not a crier. Twenty-six years as a high…