The Wishing Well

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"The Wishing Well"

by: Wes Robert Ward

The misty fog was thick, as thick as molasses, gaseous among the masses of cloudy smoke, and not to mention cold and moist, like an unspoken voice.

The wetness of the mist that drifted in with the fog felt ghastly and eerie, and much weary, seeping in slowly\u2026 flowing and filling every crease and nook like an open book of mystery like erasing words of history.

It had rolled into the coast of Portland, Maine, like common rain, entering the city like a Ghostly Armada, pushing through deep and hard, creeping here, there and everywhere as if searching for souls within\u2026 within the living within.

But alas the foggy mist is not the story, no worries, it is only the beginning of something sinister that surrounds a horror within\u2026 within the dead within.

On the pitiful outskirts of the city is an old abandoned cemetery, very airy\u2026 a tad scary, that was sealed off to the people where many pray under the not to far steeple, authorities have put up a 'No Trespassing sign' on the outside gate, trying to show people not to tempt their fate.

During the day time it was quiet and serene, like a forgotten dream and in the middle of the old cemetery tombstones was an Old ancient wishing well with an old wooden pail.

Ancient as it surely was because some say it was as old as time begun for none knew when it began. It must of been built back in the early days of the Civil War or long before the war began. The Elders also say that it was always there, older than the dead surrounding it, possibly dating back to the days of the Puritans when and whom used it to condemn Witches. Pitch black bottom too, where it ends nobody knows.

Legend says for it's no lie, cross my fingers and hope to die, that even the great Major General Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, great Godsend, who fought at Gettysburg in a leadership role, once took a common stroll through that certain unordinary cemetery and felt somewhat disturbed by the wishing well, and what some would tell he left and learned to never return.

And now it stood there, without no care, or sat upon the dying green grass matted by the moist mist of the graying fog creating a natural smog.

Silence in some sense in the cemetery is the worst thing you could hear after midnight, it gives a fright like no other sight especially in different weather. Nothingness it is called, like a silent kiss it is deadly to the ears and could drive anybody insane, drive them to the brink of madness among the sadness of the bedded dead.

Suddenly that dense eerie silence was broken by the swinging clinking of the old iron gate at the entrance of the graveyard, and so enters the old groundskeeper.

Regardless, it was Stanley Cornwallis, you must understand that he was a 60 year old man who recently took the job of night groundskeeper at this certain very weary cemetery by the name of\u2026 Forgotten Souls Cemetery. Yes, why it was named that was anybody's guess, but people were superstitious to rename it, thinking God would have a fit. What can I say about Maine, many are strange and hardly to blame.

Anyhow back to the now, Stanley Cornwallis stumbles into the graveyard, like a half drunken sod after drinking half a bottle of Portland Ale, cursing with a wail, freely swearing silently to himself and walked slowly among the tombstones shining his lamp light around up and down, "Ah yep, no kiddies tonight, quite a good sight. Better get back to me old shack. Oh me poor back, and see what's the late movie is. Tis cold out and no one should be about."

Stanley was about to turn around when he suddenly heard a whispery growling sound, "Oh Stanley."

Stanley's hair stood up on the back of his neck, making him a nervous wreck as he shined his flashlight towards the eerie whisper that said his name, it felt hungry and vain\u2026 the voice creeped the hell out of Stanley, it was icy and cold, and it was making him cowardly unmanly.

Stanley took a quick swig of his Portland Ale, chewed his fingernail then took a wad of spit to the ground, and like a bloodhound yelled out, "Okay ya pranking kid, amid and behind the well, come out or off to jail\u2026 no graffiti tonight, ya little turd of a bastard."

No reply, it made Stanley's eye twitch and made him sigh, it's no lie, it made him more nervous and paranoid to a point that it made him pull out a joint and light up, cursing this pup.

"Where are ye?" grumbled Stanley, tapping his knee, wondering why this child was up and about at this time of night, giving him a fright.

"Over here, Stanley," came the growling voice\u2026 like an echo this time, primal and carnivorous, far away as if in some deep dark dank abyss.

This time Stanley felt chills run up and down his spine, not feeling so fine\u2026 something was not right about that voice, giving him a limited choice.

"Stanley...."

Stanley shined his lamp light at the noise that time, feeling like a shuddering mime.... and feeling frail the light shined on the old wishing well.

Stanley gulped as he noticed it's odd old strange shape, the bone colored stones were old with mold, actually more ancient like days gone by and went than the tombstones that surrounded it, and the wood and the pail were just an old as well, but like an old stubborn jackass like his old woman would refer to him sometimes or what other, Stanley refused to think it was nothing more than a kid, hidden somewhere giving him, well\u2026 hell.

Stanley slowly tread and said as he walked towards the wishing well, "Tell ya what Laddie, enough is enough\u2026 no more bull honkey, boy. Toy with me no longer, linger with me no more, come out from around that ground by the old well and pray tell, stop playing games with me before I put ya across me knee."

Stanley quickly went around the grounds of the wishing well, as if searching for the Holy Grail, shined his flashlight on the other side, gazing far and wide, and saw\u2026 nothing?

Something disturbing stirred with Stanley then, once again, as he shined his flashlight everywhere and spat out, "Where are ye? So I can pull ya by the hair and beat ye with me belt!!!"

From deep within the darkening wishing well came a frightened voice, "Please mister, I want my Mommy, Daddy, and Sister. I'm so scared and frightened\u2026 I fell down the well. Help me, Help me!!!"

Stanley jumped back, causing a tombstone to crack, then got in control of his sudden surprise, rising with worry within, then cried out, "Oi, I'll save ya, boy!!!"

Stanley rushed to the wishing well near the old wooden pail, looked down into the

deep dank darkness, aimed his flashlight down below, staring down deep down the blackened hole, and with no joy saw not a boy\u2026 but with fearful cries, Stanley saw a red Demon with yellow eyes!!!

"Hello, Stanley\u2026 WELCOME TO HELL!!!"

It grunted, jumped up, and bit Stanley's solid swinging lit lamp in half with a guttural laugh, almost taking Stanley's hand with it back down deep within the abysmal pit.

Stanley shrieked and screamed, dropped everything including his Portland Ale after seeing this thing from hell, and as he heard the demon splash back down, he was already out the front gate, wailing away into the night taking a long frightful flight.

Stanley never ever touched another drop of hard liquor or bickered ever again after that night in the scary cemetery and never went back there ever again. That night he flew like the wind.

And the last thing Stanley remembered and heard was that Demon laughing and yelling, "Come back, Stanley, trust me. Throw a quarter in the well... AND I'LL SEND YA STRAIGHT TO HELL!!!"

The End.

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