High shone the noon's Sun above Veinsplit, the town's bells rang to announce the hour of the day. Folks here had a quiet life and enjoyed the sereneness of nature around them. Two rivers with rocky shores with green hills topped with white and yellow flowers made for an eye-sweet landscape for those with a weakness for nature. Children would play on the outskirts of the town so as not to interrupt the working adults. Its location gave the townsfolk more assurance as the natural barriers of the rivers on the northside prevented Rotborne raids as the bridges could easily be set to collapse and in the south had an encampment of a regiment of soldiers, not two hours away if the need arises.
These parts of the Heartlands have always been praised for the lush and serene landscape and where woodland animals skittered and fly fearlessly around as the folk here don't hunt but farm and gather fruits and vegetables to satisfy their hunger since the earliest times. The centre of Veinsplit had a low well which was deep and dark and a need for the townsfolk despite the feeling of being watched from it. They built their wood and stone houses in a circle around it yet far enough to feel more at ease as the well had an ill reputation despite being the slow-beating heart of the town. More than once did someone fall in there and become lost. When drawing the water beneath, it became a tradition to go in pairs or groups lest another clumsy went missing.
Despite the water beneath, the grass around it dried out but there was a custom that the locals invented to quell their fears about the well. It is said that dropping a personal item to the depths below would increase the chances of good fortunes in life. No belongings ever resurfaced or were found again when someone dropped a bucket down to collect water. They disappeared, like the townsfolk that fell in before. Memories of the lost fade away like snow in spring and those willing to part with something precious to them often move away from the town and find greater fortune in life the further they want; leaving behind all knowledge of their years in Veinsplit.
One red morning, some children played near the town's well as the sun rose and sang the 'Salesman' nursery rhyme for hours on end. Slowly the sky rolled golden and blue as the sun rose further and promised a warm day ahead. When they stopped singing at last for a breather, there was sudden applause and cheer. It came from the deep well.
Most of the children ran maybe fearing a ghost would grab at them, shouting their rushed claims of hearing roars and moans. But one sullen girl remained with a peaked curiosity and stepped towards the clapping and cheering. Surprising it was to see that this one did not flee the sudden merry noises and came towards its origins. To her, there were no scary sounds but felt like a party. A party for them.
How sad that as the others ran the clapping and cheer slowly faded to nothing and someone weeping. Maybe whoever was down there needed some cheers back. Maybe whoever cheered from below was happy for them to play above on such a sunny morning while this person was stuck below. Running towards the well, she yelled not to leave whoever was down there.
Looking down, she saw a weird someone down there. An odd, funny-looking young man, almost childish, in a fool's attire as grey and pale as his skin looked surprised back up to her. His soft rosy eyes showed a sadness his wide smile tried to hide. How long must he have been down there? How did he get down there? Is no one missing him?
The girl lowered the well's bucket and told the odd man to sit in it so she could hoist him out but he looked confused, not knowing what to do. It took her some time to explain and point but the fellow went from confusing to sad. Stringing his words in short rhymes with a pleasant voice, he explained that he ran away from a travelling troupe of entertainers because they made fun of his friendly but simple ways. They would laugh at his head and kick away his bag of tools and toys which he often gifted to the children coming to see him. He wondered where the girl's friends ran off to but she knew the fellow had a clue. As carefully as possible, she explained that his jeering startled them which made a teardrop in the water he was in.
The dark waters ripple and light up enough to shine on the child's face but not cause pain in her eyes, a cool, snowy white light for a warm day. The air around her felt like a comforting hug and smelled like a sweet pie freshly baked. Wondering if he could do magic, the girl asked if that's how he lived down there. His curly shoes stood on the waters below like it was a stone floor; maybe the well was that shallow at this time. Running away from bullies and living alone as a magician, who is to say how the well was enchanted that maybe none but him and those approved could see the true depths and space. It was a marvel to think of, much like she thought of the mages throughout history and their abilities. The fellow below asked if her friends would come back but that made her silent. Being in a group doesn't mean they're friends to her. She was made fun of too. Living simple and poor, mockery stung like a hot blade even in the smallest of jests. A resentment towards those with parents but spent time away from them. Had she known hers, she'd stayed and loved them every day. Not like her group, hating the farms they grew up in. Always complaining about work and trying to avoid their parents. Such luck to have both in their lives with an assured future and yet here they were, skipping their work and the people that labour for them.
Such "friends".
Her sadness and thoughts were felt by the odd fellow below, so he sang her the ‘Salesman’ rhyme that her so-called friends did before. Brazenly, the girl said to stop it as they sang it only to scare her. And to that, the fellow wondered aloud if she was a wicked one.
Thinking about it, often she would have some wicked thoughts and fantasies but never acted on them so she assured the odd fellow that she was not. Smiling again, the fellow told her that there was nothing to be scared of and the others were just dumb mice not knowing cheese when they see it. In a poof, his face changed to that of a cute mouse with a three-way pointed hat. The funny sight and the jingling bells made the girl smile again. A few improvised acrobatics in that confined space and her laughter warmed the fellow's heart. His head changed back and the girl asked if the fellow had friends at all. He explained that if he had any that would've found him, which is how the spell on the well worked. Considering the girl could see him, he suggested that maybe she was his friend. He explained that others could still hear him if he was loud enough like today but spells of sounds were more tricky than a play on the eyes.
In a way, it made sense as there has been only honesty and laughter since they met. But she loudly wondered then if he was the reason why people don't like the well that much. He admitted that he was but not for the things they believed. Odd noises and growls were just him snoring or reading loudly, his books often about monsters which he mimicked like a staged play.
Again, it made a certain sense as he rhymed words like speaking in constant songs and short poetry. The fellow asked if the girl wanted to see his humble abode and she considered it for some time. Veinsplit was a quaint and calm town but the ignorance and arrogance of the folk here were too ugly to live with. All she had to do was jump and she’d be in her new home or so the fellow promised.
Maybe there, no one laughs at them. No one would judge them. No one to tell them how to live their lives. None of life's cruelty to pester them ever again.
She closed her eyes in joyous belief and jumped towards the stretched arms of the wide grinning fellow.
His arms never got her.
Cold, deep and dark were the thick waters she fell into. Her belly and lungs slowly filled up and none of her panicked cries could be heard. As if they had a will of their own, thick sludges of mud silenced her mouth at every attempt to cry out like a tentacle slithering down her throat.
A final look to the sky above and yet there was the grey child-man smiling amusingly with a gloved fist under his white chin, looking down with those flaring rosy eyes.
She never was truly missed; just another fool that carelessly fell down the deep well.
Another one ensnared by an illusion of hearing what others could not.
Another free mind snuffed out for not submitting to the will of another like the other simpletons of the town would. Another soul to satisfy an old pact of fertility promised to the townsfolk but remembered by no one but maybe the oldest and wisest.
By far, Veinsplit was not the only place where such a curious well was and not always the danger within took such a form: closets left ajar in the night, the feint whisp of a name carried in the wind, a small road leading to some place no map shows, a friend behaving differently that leads to a queer gathering under the pale moonlight...
At times, or so the settlers of old believed, progress required a dreadful push.
And a forgotten will still hungers to deliver.
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