Flash Fiction - The Well

Don't look into the well after midnight

The realtor beamed as he jiggled the house keys in his right hand. “You have made a very wise decision, Mr. Robinson. This grand old home will hold you and your wife in good stead for a lifetime.”

Jake took the keys with a painted-on smile. He had been through the house countless times and already had a laundry list of repairs that needed immediate attention. The house had good bones, but the chances of its lasting generations was more than debatable. The chances of Jake ever finding a wife also seemed unlikely at this point. Luck with the ladies was not on his side.

After waffling on for what felt like an eternity, the realtor finally turned to leave. He stopped midway to his BMW and turned, the salesman grin now gone. “Oh, just one more thing, Mr. Robinson. Don’t look into the well after midnight.” Warning delivered, he turned on his heel and almost sprinted to his car, peeling out of the driveway in a hurry.”

Walking around back of the property, Jake looked at the well in question. The circle of stones looked to be in decent shape, but the wooden covering was falling apart, and the rope that held the bucket was now a stump of frayed rope. Sauntering over, Jake picked up a rock and dropped it down the well, failing to hear it hit the bottom. It was obviously dry. He made a mental note to cover it over in the coming days.

That night, Jake lay in bed listening to the creaks and groans of the house settling. It was something to which he was sure he would grow accustomed, but it was more than a little unsettling on his first night in the place. He turned to look at his bedside clock, watching as it changed to midnight, which was when the whistling began.

At first, Jake thought it nothing more than the wind pushing through a cracked window frame, but the closer he listened, the more he detected a human element within the whistle. Sitting up in bed, he listened closer, trying to determine where the sound was coming from. It soon became clear that it was outside, around back of the property.

Curiosity piqued, Jake grabbed his phone, activated the flashlight and slipped into his sneakers. The streetlights failed to make any sort of impact around back, so Jake tread carefully, following the flashlight beam and trying to avoid potential pitfalls. The whistling grew louder, and seemingly more tuneful, as he approached the well.

Don’t look into the well after midnight. The realtor’s voice popped into Jake’s head, but he shook it away. He did not believe in superstitious nonsense, which the warning almost certainly was. The whistling was likely little more than a bird nesting in the bricks.

He reached the edge of the well and shone the light inside, a pair of bright orbs reflecting back from a long way down. “Hello?”

“Oh my,” the voice, all soft and feminine responded. “Has someone finally heard my siren call?”

Jake felt something stir inside, like an interior caress from the softest fingers ever made. He shivered and was surprised to feel himself growing hard. “Who…who are you?”

“I can be your future, Jake. I get so lonely down here, but I know we can make each other so very happy.”

Filled with feelings of love and passionate fire, Jake placed the phone on the edge of the well and lifted his legs over the side. “Will you love me forever?”

The whistling began again, making sounds that was music to Jake’s ears. He swayed back and forth as the woman began to sing about the eternity of never-ending love.

And then he dropped inside the well.

******************************************

The realtor jiggled the keys with the widest grin on his face. “I’m sure you will love it here, Miss Mills. Your parents will love the decision that you have made.”

Ellen smiled but also wondered why the realtor said that. She was sure she had told him that her parents were recently deceased.