Well

Mother calls my name. It is seven in the morning, though my wake was at five, as my body accustomed itself to. My bed has been made, and downstairs I start my way, inaudibly so as to not wake my siblings. Silence fills the house, my light footsteps the only sound besides the occasional gust of wind provoking white noise. There is no apparent need to command me, not by my mother nor by my brain, as my body moves on its own account, plagued by the routinary exercise. 

So the bucket I lift, and my way I make towards the river. I bask in the tranquility of the early morning. Clouds lay scattered across a gray sky, and the grass is moist, adorned with dew even until this hour. Though as if uncaring for the lovely weather, no animal moves, nor makes a sound. Their absence is minor, a detail one wouldn’t notice unless specific attention was paid. But I did. Regardless, insects and animals are nonessential to the task on my shoulders. As I do each day, I will fill the massive bucket, about a foot taller than me. I will lower it in the water and I will pull it back. It will sink in the water and I will pull it back. I will fill it with water and I will pull it back. I will go home to Mother. I will go home to Meredith, Louie and Greta. I will go home.

I mustn’t delay. I press my weight into my feet with every step, crunching the grass beneath me so as to calm the deafening silence engulfing my thoughts. Previously I’d failed to realize the company critters gave me, how their tiny sounds reduced the loneliness of my way. Perhaps they are asleep. I once wished I could sleep, even for eternity. I cannot afford that comfort anymore. No arms will make me feel their embrace. I have people to take care of, people who need me to keep them afloat, to prevent them from sinking in the ocean of poverty.

A metallic aroma reaches my nose as I approach the river. Steel waste, most likely. Though there was none yesterday, and the scent is far too powerful for metal that recently began rusting. If the water is contaminated, I’ll have to run around the river until I reach the clear, a lesson hard learned from the time Mother locked me out until I got the water. But as I reach the river, I find out the scent is not a type of metal at all.

Blood.

The scene is frightful, waves of red, both light and dark, concentrated circles of black, and a smell so nauseating I think I may fall to my passing. Littered around the border of the river are animal carcasses and dead insects, their blood spilling and running down the river, the current strong as ever. I look up the river and see a figure, dark and tall, its limbs nonexistent yet it stands. Despite this, the shadow is eerily human-like, though partially blurred by the morning fog. Its head turns towards me and I witness its eyes flash red for a fraction of a second before I turn on my heel and start running towards the house, my feet pounding on the grass almost as fast as my heart pounds in my chest. The wind picks up and I hear its gusts whooshing around me and lifting my hair, though I don’t let it slow me down as I run for my life, ignoring everything else, my eyes focused forward, not looking back. Fear and adrenaline course through my entire body, nothing to determine which of these is strongest. I pass the gates and the old well, which hasn’t been used in an undetermined amount of years. I run up the stone steps and knock heavily on the door, crouching down as I gasp to obtain as much air as I can in my current state. 

Mother opens the door, looking up and then down upon noticing me. Her hair is tied into a tight bun, her face a combination of her usual sternness and a new confusion.

“Mother.” I catch my breath and gasp.

She looks around and behind me, not an ounce of compassion in her expression. “Where have you left the bucket?”

“Mother!” I cry, my brain not registering her words. “Blood! Blood everywhere!”

I look up to see her face as she sneers in disdain. I don’t understand her, why doesn’t she comprehend what I’m saying? My voice sticks to my throat as my eyes water, irritated by the cool air and all my running.

“Have you gone insane?” she yells. “What is this blood you speak of? Where is the water I asked you to bring?”

The water. My eyes go hazy as I remember. I knocked the bucket over as I ran, completely forgetting about it in the interest of saving my life. Mother won’t believe me when I tell her the story. She never does. A tear runs down my cheek as I stare at Mother.

“Where is it?” she screams even louder this time. “How do you expect me to feed my 

children without it? 

“If you would just let me explain-” I try. 

“NO!” she yells, a murderous rage in her voice. “You will go get it now. Go to the clear, and if you can’t, use the old well.” She stares down at me for a second before adding, “And I don’t want you here without the water.”

I remain on the floor for a short while. I don’t want to go back, clearly, but I won’t be let in unless I do. However, I can’t get water from the river. She mentioned the well, but I don’t know how I would ever use it after its time of disuse. Still, it’s the only option that remains, so I stand up and make my way towards the river. There’s nothing left for me to lose except my life, which I am starting to value less with each second. I walk quickly towards the river; the sun has risen a little but it’s still partially dark, and loom for the bucket when I get there. I find it standing up.

Up? I knocked it down. 

I approach it carefully, overly wary of my surroundings, and peek inside it. Nothing. I rapidly pick it up and run away from the river and towards the old well. I still don’t look back when I run. The well awaits me past the gate, rusty metal and old stones set in place for it. I peek inside it. Nothing. Darkness is all I see. Carefully I  attach the bucket to the rope and try to lower it.

I hear a creak and then a sharp crack. I look down to see the rope has broken, taking the bucket with it. Not long after, the sound of metal clattering against the floor resounding from the bottom of the well startles me. I take a step forward and lean against the well to peer down inside it, however, the darkness prevents me from noticing anything.

I jolt forward as what feels like two hands push me and fall down the well.

My fall is silent as I accept my destiny. However, when my body touches the ground. I don’t stop feeling. In fact, I feel more than anything. I let out a sharp scream as a throbbing pain spreads in my leg. I try to unfold it, but it’s twisted in an unnatural way. Tears run down my face, blurring my vision, which is already weak due to the darkness. 

“Well?”

My head perks up at the voice. I wipe my eyes and see a light shining at the bottom of the well. 

“Is someone there? Hello?” I say.

“How unfortunate,” the voice responds, a voice that sounds almost inhuman, soft yet demonic, “You’re trapped here.”

I don’t respond. I am already aware of my cruel fate.

“Would you be interested in a way out?” the voice asks tentatively.

That calls my attention. “A way out?”

“Why, of course,” I hear an almost smile. “You merely need to complete a simple task.”

Something about its tone makes me believe the task will be nowhere near simple, but I have no other option. “What task?” I huff out.

“Your leg seems to be slowing you down.” It pauses. “You might have noticed the saw at the corner. You must get rid of your useless leg with it.”

My stomach drops. My leg? Cut it off? The idea is insane. “What?”

“The offer will expire soon,” it says, the melody in its voice demonstrating its condescendence. 

“No.” I breathe. “No, I can’t do that. How-how will I get out then?”

“You needn’t worry about that, I’ll handle it.”

“No.” My answer sounds definite and final. “I apologize, but I can’t.”

“What a shame. Oh, how your siblings shall weep for your loss, though nothing shall console them.”

My breath hitches as I realize it holds the truth. They are almost completely dependent on me, and I can’t leave them alone with Mother.

“Wait!” I yell, tears streaming down my face at my imminent decision. “I’ll do it.”

I get no response, but the light still shines. I crawl poorly towards the saw and sit next to it, extending my broken leg despite the excruciating pain. With shaking hands, I press its rusty blades above my knee. I hesitate before moving any further, my heart pounding in my chest at the action I am about to commit. Slowly, I begin to move. 

I scream in pain as the blades penetrate my thigh. I don’t stop moving the saw. I scream and yell and cry as I keep moving it and I am eventually sitting in a pool of blood. I might have become insane. I cut and cut until my leg is nonexistent. Screams resonate along the well. 

“I did it!” I yell at the voice, my own cracking at the unbearable pain. “Get me out of here!”

However, I get no response other than the dimming of the previous light. I begin to grow desperate. 

“Where did you go?” I scream. “I did what you asked! Get me out!”

Silence.

“Do you need me to cut off my entire leg?” I offer in desperation as I place the saw at the beginning of my thigh. “I can do that.”

I start cutting and screaming in pain once again, my hands, clothes and the saw completely covered in blood now. I stop as realization dawns on me. I am not escaping this well. My desperation overwhelmed my sense. The voice tricked me. 

I sit back and ignore the pain. My death is imminent, as I realize I’ve started feeling lightheaded, my forehead drowning in a cold sweat. 

“You know, I will not forgive you for this,” I say to the now absent voice, smiling in tears. “May Death know your sins and show you a fate thrice as cruel.”

The voice, however, comes back to chuckle. “Precious, I am Death.”

My smile drops as cold arms embrace me from behind, and everything becomes dark.

Death.