The Dark Well

By Pedro R.C. Silva

     My face is on the cold wet stone floor. I push myself up and sit. My head pounds with pain and I rub it with my hand. I smell blood and pull away my hand, rubbing my fingers together. Did someone knock me out when I wasn't looking? I stand, my legs wobble for a moment before I regain my balance, and I stretch out my arms and feel a cold, wet, stone wall. I follow it slowly, feeling some patches of moss from time to time. I reach another wall and follow it as well, another wall, and then another, all the same distance between each other and no door on any of them. I stretch my arms upward but the walls just go up even further. I try to find a hand or foot hold somewhere to attempt a climb, but all the walls are smooth and not made of slabs. I sit back down and begin to wait.

     I cannot tell how much time has passed. My head has stopped pounding and I can hear the dripping of water hitting stone. I move around to see if I can find the sound’s source. I move closer and a drop hits my hand, the cold of the water spreads just as far as the water does. I move my head to where my hand was and tilt it back with my mouth open. The first drop hits my cheek, awaking some of my faces senses. The second hits my nose, some even going up it, but I dare not move. The next drops go into my mouth. I stay there until I’m satisfied, I began to wait again. It is all I can do. There is no other way.

     Drip… drip… drip… It goes on and on, without pause, taunting me. It won’t stop, it will never stop.

     Footsteps. I hear them from above, echoing off the wet stone walls. I hold my breath to better hear them but now my heart pounds with excitement and fear. They've stopped. I hear a voice but cannot understand it. It sounds more guttural than anything. I call out to the voice, asking why I have been taken captive, what do they want with me, and if there was a chance for any food to be brought. A sudden thump in front of me made me jump to my feet. Laughter echoed from above, filling all the space between me and whatever that is. No answer to any of my questions so far, so I wait a little longer. Footsteps again, this time growing more distant with every step until only the dripping is left.

I begin to feel the floor with my hands, searching for whatever made that thump. Around the center I feel something rough, a cloth of some sort. I run my hands all over, it’s a bag tied off at the top. I wonder why they gave me a bag. I pull it up, practically weightless. I untie the top and open it. I run my hands around the rim before slowly putting my hand in it. Perhaps there may be some food. I feel nothing but the sack. Now it’s up to my elbow. I feel around a little more and don’t feel a thing. Pain, sharp stinging pain. The bag has closed around my elbow and begins to suck the rest of the arm into the bag. It moves quickly and is already up my shoulder, I can no longer feel my fingers and half of my hand. I cry out. No one responds, only my own echo. I try to pull it off but its grip is too tight. The mouth of the bag begins to open bit by bit to allow my body to enter it. I can feel it go up my neck. I place my hand on my chin and wait for it to reach there. It’s around my fingers now. I can’t feel my other arm. I try to rip it off my face, but now my other hand is stuck. It sucks my other hand in with ease. I can’t stop it. It’s now over my mouth. I try to scream again but the only sound I hear is the dripping water. It’s over my nose. Half my shoulder is gone. My eye lashes brush against the bags mouth. Half my remaining arm is gone along with a whole shoulder. The bag is now completely over my head.

©2014 - Pedro R.C.  Silva - All rights reserved