Thursday, 22 May 2008

This Writing Life: A Trip to the Well

Today I was going through the bulletins from my MySpace acquaintances and came across a call for entries in a flash fiction contest. The rules were simple, write a dark, possible scary story that's under 500 words inspired by this picture:

So I sat down, and had a third draft done within an hour.

Which is a speed record for me, and I write pretty fast when I have my dander up. So as a treat for you, my loyal readers I'm letting you have a sneak peek at my little tale. Let me know what you think about it...

A Trip to the Well By Duncan R. MacMaster

Gil tripped and fell backwards, the corpse of his girlfriend Jennifer, wrapped in a shower curtain, slipped from his hands.

"Hey," said Tommy, "you all right?"

"Yeah," said Gil among the half-decayed leaves. "I really have to thank you Tommy."

"You're in trouble," replied Tommy with a shrug, "I have to help."

"I didn't mean to hurt her," muttered Gil as he got up, brushing long dead leaves from clothes, "I just had a too much--"

"You're wasting time," said Tommy, "sun's coming up."

"How much farther?"

"Just past those trees."

Gil turned around and saw the sign, standing lopsided, he couldn't make out the writing in the half-light, but it had to be Tommy's well.

"How do you know about this place?" asked Gil.

Tommy shrugged. "A friend lived here, he doesn't anymore."

With a heave Gil and Tommy lifted Jennifer's body up and carefully winded their way the last hundred feet to the old well.

"Put her down," said Tommy.

Gil carefully lowered Jennifer's feet and legs onto the bed of dead leaves and grey moss. He paused for a moment and realized how ridiculous she would look wrapped in a shower curtain decorated with sea shells and grimacing cartoon fish if she hadn't been dead.

"Lift the lid off the well," ordered Tommy, "then it will be like none of this ever happened."

Gil knelt by the old well, the lid was a thick sheet of metal, rusted till it resembled dried blood, on top of it was a layer of more dead leaves, and three stones in a rough triangle. Gil moved the crooked "DANGER: WELL" sign, took off the three stones, and placed them aside. He then brushed aside the leaves, and pushed aside the heavy lid with a grunt.

A foul smell exhaled from the well.

"Man," said Gil. "It smells like something is already dead down there."

"It's full of pretty nasty stuff," replied Tommy, picking up a stones that once rested on top of the lid.

"You're the best friend I ever had," said Gil, looking into the well's inky blackness.

"Not really," said Tommy as he smashed the stone into the side of Gil's head.

Gil fell, the world spinning around him.

"Wha--?" croaked Gil.

"Allareth," said Tommy in a low voice, "I have brought you one who has spilled innocent blood. Take what you need, give what I want."

Gil felt burning claws dig into his ankle.

He screamed.


Tommy placed the last stone back on metal lid, and moved the crooked sign back into place.

"Tommy?" asked a voice behind him.

Tommy turned to face Jennifer, who was sitting upright, the shower curtain falling off her shoulders.

"Where am I?" asked Jennifer before a bolt of fear crossed her face. "Gil! He went crazy--"

"Gil's gone," said Tommy with a smile. "He's not coming back, and he'll never hurt you again, my love."


1 comment:

  1. Very nice. Got a nice Lovecraftian vibe going there.