The Well

Troy discovers a well in an empty field. One false slip and his world changes forever.

“Disgusting!” said Troy to himself as his legs splayed about in the dark, searching for a footing. Darkness enveloped the well as though a giant stonewall eclipsed the sun. He cared little for that; Troy was more worried of what lay in the grubby water.

The man who owned the well, George, had warned Troy.

“Do not play near the well. Stay closer to the edge of the field, near the gate.”

Did the little boy listen? The field was littered with three corner jacks that threatened to penetrate his soft skin underfoot. Now Troy wished he had heeded the warning. He had wandered across the grass towards the centre to investigate this ancient well, a meeting place of the shepherds of history.

“I wonder why I have to stay away from the well?” whispered Troy as he climbed onto the bricks to peek below. As he placed his foot onto a stone, it moved. Troy paused. His weight shifted out of his control as the stone toppled and fell into the well. Troy, with his fingertips, clasped at the stones. It was of little use. His tips slid off the moss around the cracks and he followed the loose stone into the depths underground.

Troy was not hurt, except for some scratches and bruises. But the water was slimy and reeked of fertiliser mixed with mown grass. Unlike some boys his age, Troy disliked the thought of swimming in filth.

Suddenly Troy’s toes found a foothold! At last! Resting for the first time since falling, Troy peered up the well. It seemed a long way, that hole to the outside world. It was smaller than he hoped it would be. How was he going to free himself?

“Help!” cried Troy, hoping someone would pass by and hear his shrill voice. He continued for a few minutes, ears straining to hear between each yelp. No one heard him. A sob rose from Troy’s underbelly as he shuddered. A question poked its way into his thoughts.

Will I die here, alone in a well?

Light, for a moment, crept into the well. Troy closed his eyes as he pushed his hands against the stone, readjusting his footing. He breathed through his nose. That fertiliser scent was overwhelming. He regretted his choice. Returning to breathing through his mouth, he sighed. With the sigh came a high-pitched moan, followed by another sob. The shuddering continued.

Suddenly, the light from the outside world disappeared. A figure covered the opening.

“Is there someone down there?” a strong, warming voice bellowed from above, the echo collecting in Troy’s ears as though they had discovered gold.

“Yes!’ cried Troy. ‘Yes, I’m down here!”

“Are you okay?” asked the voice.

Troy confirmed he was fine, apart from being a little shaken.

“Hang on, mate,’ said the voice. ‘We’ll get you out.” The light returned to the well as the figure left. In a few minutes, of course, it was back, along with another figure.

“I’m going to come down by rope, and we’ll try to get you out of there,” said the voice.

“Okay,” said Troy, feeling relieved. The two figures moved about above, talking to each other, in voices too low for Troy to hear. A piece of rope dropped, nearly hitting Troy’s head, before the first figure began shimmying down it, using legs as leverage.

“Here I come lad,’ said the figure as he reached the level where Troy was. ‘Can you move to the side so I can park myself in here?”

Troy moved off his foothold, treading water as best he could, and allowing the figure to drop down into the water. As he did, Troy realised the figure was a boy much like himself.

“Hi I’m Jack, and that’s my dad George at the top,’ said the figure. ‘What’s your name?”

“Troy,” said Troy, worried about what George might say, having warned him not to play near the well.

“Okay Troy, I’m going to get you to climb out of this well using this rope.”

Troy raised his eyebrows. “How am I going to climb out of here? That’s a long way up!”

“Troy,’ said the reassuring voice of Jack, ‘I’ll show you how,” and proceeded to do so. In much the same way as he lowered himself, Jack used his legs to propel up the rope with speed. It looked easy enough, but with the slime on his feet and hands, Troy wondered if it were possible.

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“Yes you can, Troy. Take your time. You can do it.”

“But I’m all slimy.”

“When you get out of the water, scrape some of the muck off you against the wall.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can. I’m here for you. Come on, give it a go.”

There was a slight glisten in Jack’s eyes.

He must know what he is doing. If he can do it, I can do it.

“Okay,” said Troy finally.

Troy grabbed hold of the rope and started using his legs against the stone. He slipped.

“Try again,” said Jack as he floundered in the water, struggling to keep his head above water with Troy in the way.

“Sorry.”

“No need. Try again.”

Jack found his footing and motioned for Troy to climb. Once Troy started going, he found it quite easy. Hands up the rope, legs up the wall. Inch by inch he rose closer to the opening. As he neared the top, he heard George’s voice calling to him.

“Keep going. You can do it.”

Troy froze as he saw the bearded face. What might George say? His hands gripped the rope, the fingers unwilling to reach any further. He was stuck near the top of the well, but too far below the opening to clamber out, even with George reaching from above to take his hand.

“It’s okay, Troy,’ said George. ‘Not far now. You’re nearly there. Just pop your back against the stones, have a rest, then keep using your legs and your arms to pull yourself out.”

But like leaves on a still night, Troy stiffened.

George’s voice reassured him. “Pop your right foot up about ten centimetres, then using the power in that leg and in your arms, pull yourself up a bit. From there, I can grab you.”

“I…I can’t,” muttered Troy.

“Try, Troy, try,” said George.

How does he know my name?

Troy followed the man’s instructions. The right foot slipped as it contacted the stone. His fingers didn’t have a complete grip of the rope and for a moment, his body dropped. Grasping for anything, the rope found its way between the webbing of his hand and he clutched, swearing he would never let go again. Troy kicked his legs around until he found his feet on the side of the well again and pushed upwards, hanging with his hands right next to his trembling face.

“I’m not trying that again,’ said Troy. ‘I’m stuck.”

“Okay then,’ said George, before leaning in to yell. ‘Jack, climb up the rope, son.”

“Okay Dad,” was the voice from below Troy. He suddenly felt the rope being moved around, and in no time, felt Jack’s presence directly below him.

“Jack, climb up underneath Troy so he’s sitting on your shoulders,” instructed George.

“Are you sure, Dad?” asked Jack.

“You know you have to.”

Jack did. He climbed up until his shoulders took the weight of Troy’s thighs.

George shifted to the other side of the opening. “Now you are going to climb up the rope in uni…”

George never finished the word as the rope dropped, with the screaming boys hanging on. The falling lasted only a moment, for they were jerked to a halt. George had grabbed hold of the rope, and for the minute, they were steady.

“I’ve got you!” yelled George from beyond their view of the top. Troy hung tightly onto the rope, his legs dangling around Jack’s head.

Jack was yelling something to his dad. Troy’s ears caught the last part: “Can you pull us out?”

There was a pause from George, followed by the sound of intense breathing.

“Dad?”

Finally George spoke, his voice strained. “I cannot pull the both of you up. You’re too heavy.”

“I’ll just climb down, Dad,” said Jack.

“Jack,’ barked George, ‘there’s not enough time. You have to let go.”

“Dad, do I have to?”

“Yes!”

And Troy felt Jack no longer underneath him. He took one brief look below, seeing Jack fall away, his eyes gazing into Troy’s. Fear was not on his face, and as he splashed into the murky water, a smile started to stretch across his face.

Troy was suddenly jerked upwards and pulled up and out of the well. His achy arms and legs clambered out, flopping into the green carpet. He cared little for the three corner jacks. Taking in deep breaths, he peered over his shoulder to see George calling into the well.

“Jack! Jack!”

There was no answer. Troy painfully rose and staggered over to the well. For the second time, but more carefully this time, Troy braced himself against solid rock, and against George, and peered inside. There was nothing, only water.

“Where’s Jack?” Troy asked, his voice quivering.

“He must be under the water.”

The two waited a few seconds, expecting Jack to burst out of the water, but as time passed and there was no sign of Jack, Troy began to have a fit.

“C’mon, Jack!’ he barked. ‘This is my fault! That should be me down there!”

“Calm down lad,’ said George, seemingly quiet despite his son not being visible. ‘Help me down into the well.”

Troy went and grabbed the rope, seeing for the first time what had happened whilst he and Jack were dangling below. The twine had snapped clean where it rubbed against the tree it was tied to. Did that mean there was enough rope for George to climb down to the water? Troy looked at George with questioning eyes, holding the frayed rope in his hand. George nodded. He would go down despite the lack of length.

“Pass me the small bit of rope that snapped off,” said George. Troy did. George tied it around his waist. He then helped Troy tie the remaining rope around the tree, checked for any weak spots, before proceeding to climb down the well. Troy carefully watched from above with hands around the rope, but should the rope snap, he knew his efforts would be useless. He hoped quietly it would not.

George eased himself down the well. There was hardly room for his broad shoulders. As George reached the water line of the well, Jack’s head appeared next to George’s foot, or so Troy thought.

“Jack! Jack!” cried Troy.

There was no answer, like before. Jack’s head was facedown in the water, unmoving. George’s body dropped below the waterline, before rising with Jack draped around his shoulders. He tied Jack to himself, and shimmied back up the rope to the outside world. Troy moved out of the way as George laid his son down on the grass, feeling around his face and placing his ear next to his mouth. A few men burst through the gate, apparently hearing the earlier commotion. But there was nothing, no sign of life in Jack. George began to weep, his tears dripping across Jack’s face cupped in his hands.

Jack was dead.

Troy did not understand what was going on inside of him.

It’s my fault. I sent Jack to his death.

The men pried Jack from George and carried his body away, leaving George doubled over, holding his hands in front of his face. The man motioned for Troy to come closer. Troy tiptoed over.

He’s going to kill me.

 As he got to George, the man turned his face, red and blotched with salty beads.

“Troy,’ he stammered, ‘I want you to remember something. I want you to remember that this is not your fault.”

Troy nodded, not sure where this was going.

“This was meant to happen, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I’m sorry,’ said Troy, his voice quivering. ‘I am so sorry. I deserve to be punished.”

“Oh, I think there’s been enough punishment today.”

Troy acknowledged with a nod, tears beginning the long road down his face.

“There is something you can do, lad,’ said George. ‘You don’t have any parents, is that right?”

Troy nodded.

“And I’m guessing that you miss them a lot, don’t you?”

Troy nodded again.

“And I’m guessing you would like someone to take care of you?”

Troy kept nodding, looking deep into the eyes of the man, those same eyes that glistened below, that smiled at him as they sank into the water.

“Well, how would you like to become my son?”

Reviews

[Chris]

a thoughtful story - emotional

[Urja Gokani]

amazingly written keep it up and well penned!

[Dalton Wagoner]

Beautiful story! It had me on the edge of my seat! 😂 I especially loved the ending. Great job!

[Not here]

Awesome ending :) I really liked the story. I had no idea where it was going, which is good. Maybe splitting it into two parts would be best, though? If it's a long piece like this, people have trouble reading all of it. If you split it into 2, it'd be easier for people. Just a thought.