Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 27, 2018 16:25:50 GMT -6
Through the Water
Alice and I used to go down to the wells and throw rocks down to the bottom. Depending on the size of the rock, it would take at least fifteen seconds for it to splash, echoing back up the well walls. We would do this every day, whether we were taking turns or doing it together. We never looked over the edge of the well because Mom said she would close it up if she caught us. Every now and then we would bring a flashlight to see if we could find the bottom. We never could.
On my tenth birthday, we went down to the wells. I leaned against the brick, rubbing dirt against my new plaid dress, and Alice copied. It was cold that day; I can remember it almost clearly. It didn’t rain, but the morning dew left a wet film over everything. I dug through the dirt for more rocks and left Alice by herself. I didn’t pay attention to the song she was singing as she walked in circles along the well. But I remember the sounds of her screams, echoing through the backyard. There was no way I could have caught her before she fell, but I will always blame myself for that day.
I cried for her, screaming until I became light-headed, but she didn’t respond. The walk usually took ten minutes. I made it home in three. I told Mom what had happened as tears streamed down my face. My breathing was uneven and heavy, my face swollen with tears. The look on Mom’s face when I told her will forever be imprinted in my mind. A look of fear and shock and anger. She was angry at me and I knew it, but she would never admit that.
When the sirens came swirling in, a few firemen went down to the bottom. In this moment, everything was silent. When they came back up, they didn’t have her.
“I’m afraid she isn’t down here.” One of the firemen tells Mom. “But there is no exit to the well, and there is no way she could’ve climbed back up. I’m not sure what to say.”
Mom looked at the men in complete silence. I did the same.
“She just fell down there, I heard the splash. She has to be down there, I just saw h-”
Mom put her hand over my mouth. What happened to Alice was true, and there was no way she could’ve gotten out before we got back to the well.
Most of the men got back in their trucks and drove back to the station. But one man, an officer, stopped in front of us. He told us he would start an investigation; that he would look at this incident as if it was a missing person.
I remember Mom crying, for weeks on end. I wasn’t allowed to go down to the well, but sometimes in the mornings when Mom would go to the store, I would sneak down there and try to talk to her. She never talked back. I would cry and pray for her to be okay, and for weeks nothing happened. But one day, I called her name and I swear for a second I heard her calling back.
Every day after that, I went down to the well. She never talked back anymore, but I wasn’t there to hear her voice. I would tell her about my problems and complain about how Mom acted. I would ask her questions knowing I wouldn’t get a response. I spoke until I had nothing left to say and then I threw a rock. I waited for the splash, but it never came. I got off the steps and peered down the well. Moments later, the rock flew back out of the well. It was coated in a dark red film, almost as if it was dipped in food coloring. It reeked of something that stung my throat. It was like the smell that fills the car when you pass a dead animal on the side of the road. I threw the rock into the woods and ran back home.
Mom barely left her room, so I snuck out the next day. It was rainy again, and puddles filled the empty mole tracks that drew designs through the yard. I sat on the steps of the well, picking the leaves off of a branch that stuck up in the mud. I dropped a few pebbles down the hole and waited for the splash. It wasn’t the same without Alice. I heard Mom calling for me from the house and I took my time walking back up. If I was already caught, there was no reason to lose my breath over it.
Later that week, Mom had the well filled. I spent that time in my room, grounded until she thought I deserved the things I wanted. While I was stuck inside I searched how wells were made, how they traveled through the ground, and if there were truly any ways for a person to escape. I found nothing. After hours of searching, I finally found something useful. It was an article over the myths of three missing girls from the 1960’s. The youngest girl was the one who fell. It said she was never found after that, and soon after, both of her sisters went missing. The fuzzy black pictures of the young girls were so disturbing it made my stomach turn.
I laid in bed at night and thought about the girls. And Alice, and me. If those girls went missing after their sister fell, what could happen to me? It seemed crazy to think that way, like I was a child afraid of the monster under my bed. It couldn’t be real. I tossed and turned all night, trying to erase the image from my head.
I woke up to small drops of water creating a pool in my hair. I sat up in the grass, dazed and confused. It took me a minute to realize where I really was: the well. It was barely dusk and the sky was still a dark indigo mixed with just a touch of sunlight. I looked over the edge of the well, but it was empty. Instead of being filled to the rim with concrete, it was open as if it had never been touched. I leaned into the well, reaching my arm inside to feel for the concrete. That’s when I fell.
I jumped out of sleep with a skip of a heart beat and a loud gasp as I threw my blankets off of me. You know the feeling you get when you feel like you’re falling in your sleep? This is what it was like. I lied there and tried to catch my breath, staring up at the ceiling. I was back at home, in my bed. It all felt so real. It was like I could feel the cold and the fogginess in the grass. I would’ve been crazy to think it was a dream. That’s when I realized, my hair was dripping water through my pillow case.
