Aguas Poseidas

William sat against the old wishing well, enjoying the cool stones on his back, while feeling disgusted with how his life had turned out. This was a special place for him and he liked to come here to think whenever he was depressed. 

The well calmed him and gave him a sense of control over his tumultuous life. He had been here several times this summer alone. 

Things hadn’t gone the way he had expected them to over the past year. He thought once his marriage with Edith ended, his life would improve. But that hadn’t happened. 

Edith’s paycheck had accounted for most of their income and William had fallen into deep debt. This brought about old feelings of suicide he hadn’t felt in years. In fact, those thoughts had ended in his senior year when Billy Bergson stopped picking on him. Now, at 54, the self-harm feelings were back. Life’s so unfair.  

William’s psychiatrist, Dr. Mitchell, put him on psychotropic drugs but they did little to help. When his new girlfriend Sarah went away, William became even gloomier. Well that was putting it nicely. He made her go away because of her poor behavior, and now William found himself alone once again. I hate being alone. 

He patted his plumping belly and ran a hand over his retreating hairline. He was still a very strong man, but age seemed to be settling in for a long stay. Getting old sucks. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what was so wrong with everybody. Nobody seems to be compatible with me. Sure, he was grumpy, had poor hygiene, and struggled with an explosive temper, but he felt his relationship issues stemmed mostly from other people’s lack of understanding. 

Even his parents were difficult. They used to call him ‘Grumpy Gus’ and ‘Cranky Cat’. Dang I really miss them. William hoped they were in a better place, but knew they weren’t.  

The sound of a stone splashing below in the water of the old well roused him from his self-pity musings. Strange.

The old wishing well was an enigma. It was said to be centuries old, having been a drinking hole even before the Europeans arrived in the Americas. Of course the three-foot stone wall and roped bucket were added more recently, probably in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s. The place was called the Whispering Waters Wishing Well.  

His father had taken him here when he was a boy, explaining that if you listened hard enough, you could hear whispers from the waters below. William never had. 

He and his parents lived in the nearby town of Cloudcroft. After his parents died, he remained in the same house and had lived there his entire life, visiting this secret spot often over the years.

The wishing well was off the beaten path, about a thirty minute walk into the woods, and had been long forgotten by most people who may have known about it. It fact, William had never seen anyone else here before.  

The Spaniards, who arrived in the region first, had called it Aguas Poseidas, or possessed waters. At least that’s what his father had told him. William chuckled. That’s a more accurate name. 

Wait, was that another pebble? William rose to his feet, wanting to find out what kept interrupting his thoughts.  

The salt and pepper-haired man peeked over the edge of the well into the deep dark hole. He couldn’t see anything in the blackness below. I should be going anyways. The sun's starting to sink. Then he heard something else entirely. 

There was no mistaking the sound. “Willy,” floated up out of the darkness in a whispering voice. It was gravelly, but unmistakably feminine.  

You got to be shitting me! William’s ex-wife, Edith, was the only one who had ever called him Willy. He scrambled for his cell phone and in his rushed panic to flip on the light, dropped it into the dark hole before him. With a distant splash it was gone. He felt his anger rising. Oh, come on. That was a $600 phone!

“Willy.” A little louder now. He peered hard into the deep darkness and thought he saw . . . movement. 

“Is-s-s. . . is somebody down there?”  It sounded stupid the second he said it. How, or why, would anybody be down there?

“Willeee.” It was more of a hissing moan now, causing William to take a step back from the wishing well.  

Then a muddy arm slapped over the side, followed by another. What the hell?

The arms hoisted up a torso with an unmistakably recognizable head attached to it. He had been married to the woman for 22 years and even muddied, knew it was Edith. The entire horrid figure flopped onto the ground beside the well with a squishy wet sound. 

“Willy.” Water and mud dripped from Edith’s putrid blue lips, her eyes fluttering open as she peered up at him. They were glazed over with a hazy white film. 

“It can’t be you! I killed you last year and hid you in the well! You’re dead!” He shouted in disbelief while pointing an accusatory finger at her. 

“Willy.” The muddy corpse rose and took a jerky step forward.

Another gruesome mud-covered body slid out of the well, slowly coming to a crooked standing position. It was a younger, more shapely female.

“Sarah?” He gulped. “I’m so sorry, baby. It was an accident, I swear. I didn’t know you were going to die when I slammed your head on the table. It was your fault. You knew I had a temper yet you insisted on making me angry. I had to put you in the well, baby. Jail isn’t for guys like me.”

“Willeee!” both women screeched at the same time and took shambling steps forward.  

Screw this! William turned and took off, immediately tripping on a root that he hadn’t seen in the failing light. As he went down, his head slammed into a Ponderosa Pine.  

William awoke with a start, coming to a sitting position. “W-where am I?” Damn that was some awful dream. 

He sat up rubbing his aching forehead, realizing he was still in the woods. Wait . . . if that was a dream then why do I have blood on my fingers? Idiot tree hit me! 

“Willy, we’ve been waiting for you down there in the cold dark waters. We’ve been waiting for you, Willy.” The words creepily sounded like several voices all speaking in unison. He slowly turned and looked back towards the well.

Edith and Sarah had been joined by five others, bringing the number of mud-covered soggy corpses to seven. All were barely visible in the waning sunlight, gently swaying although there was no breeze.

Billy Bergson was there. Their senior year he had lured the bully to the Whispering Waters Wishing Well and shoved him in. Next to Billy were his parents. He had killed them in a fitful rage at their house in ‘89 and had dumped them here. They, of all people, really should’ve known how mad I’d get when they asked me to move out.  

Next was Deputy Marston, still listed as missing since ‘96. The man had stopped him for speeding. The dirty cop had claimed he was doing 78 in a 55. That enraged William, who overpowered the officer and killed him with his own gun, taking him straight to the well where he dumped the body. I hate liars. I’d only been doing 70.

And finally, Dr. Mitchell. He had killed him last month, just a few days before he had lost it on Sarah. Tough week. 

William had told the quack his problems were generating from everybody else, but the good doctor had insisted that William was the issue. Control my temper? That comment earned the psychiatrist a trip to the wishing well.  

“Willy!” The united voices screeched, the corpses taking a squishy step forward.

“Look, I know you’re all upset about ending up in the well. It sucks, but it’s not my fault. You all made me mad. You shouldn’t have pissed me off! I’d do it all over again ‘cause it’s your faults!” He tried to rise to his feet but became severely dizzy from the knock on his head and had to bend over and grab his knees.  

“Willy!” Muddy hands grabbed at his clothes, arms, legs, and face.  

“No!” William struggled against his dead victim’s grasping hands but they had a firm grip on him now and slowly began to drag him back to the old stone well.  

“No!” He screamed again, becoming angry as spittle flew from his lips. He threw punch after punch, to no avail, while the hideous corpses slowly drug him to the rim of the wishing well.  “It’s your faults! Your own damn faults! You bastards got what you deserved!”

Over the edge screaming, punching, and cussing he went. With a loud splash, the flailing man hit the bottom.  

A moaning and cursing William could be heard from below as one after another, the seven muddy corpses slid back into the well.  

Moments later, after complete darkness fell over the woods, the Whispering Waters Wishing Well became eerily silent.