There was an old story in my village warning children to never venture near the water wells. They were carved in the forest floor and connected to the ocean beyond our mountain. They were so dark and deep, even if you found the shiniest pebble and threw it in, you couldn't see the bottom.

They were dangerous for obvious reasons I suppose: you could fall and being so far inland the forest not one of us knew how to swim. The underlying current could sweep you away before someone had a chance to grab your arm and rescue you. And, of course, once long ago being connected to the great ocean...there was no way of telling what sort of horrible creatures the underwater caverns housed.

Our way of life was a simple one, and the wells were our only water source. They weren't but a simple distance away, far enough to be wary and for children to not venture near, but close enough that one would think water would not be among our problems.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

And it wouldn't be, if it weren't for the creature who lived in the wells.

It stole away children and animals who wandered too close, it pulled full grown men into the darkness when they came to drew water from its surface, and it did this all unprovoked. No one knew when it had first made an appearance, it had been too long to know.

People would roll gifts to the edge of one of the wells in hopes of pleasing the beast below, praying it would simply allow them to take a cup full of water before they would run away. Sparkling sunstones, strung arrangements and animal hides would litter the pathways.

The wells would overflow at times, only enough to wet the forest floor and leave puddles scattered here and there. You would think this would make it easier for us, that we could hope the water would trickle along far enough away. But it only made it worse;

It would hear you approach.

What’s bright above,

Is dark below.