The Whispering Well

The old well at the edge of town had been abandoned for years. Overgrown with weeds and surrounded by a rotting wooden fence, it was the kind of place parents warned their kids to stay away from. They said it was cursed.

Ellie didn’t believe in curses.

“You seriously think something’s down there?” her friend Mark asked as they stood in the moonlight, staring at the crumbling stones.

“Not something,” Ellie replied. “Someone.”

Mark frowned. “This is stupid. People fall down wells, not live in them.”

“Then why do people hear whispers?” Ellie shot back.

“Wind?”

Ellie ignored him and pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight. “I’m going to look.”

“You’re insane,” Mark muttered, but he didn’t leave.

The air around the well felt colder than the rest of the night, and Ellie shivered as she leaned over the edge. Her flashlight illuminated the damp stone walls, slick with moss, but the bottom was too far down to see.

“Hello?” Ellie called, her voice echoing into the darkness.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, faintly, a voice drifted up.

“Help me.”

Ellie froze.

Mark stepped back. “Nope. Nope. Nope. I’m out.”

“Wait,” Ellie said, her heart racing. She leaned closer. “Who’s down there?”

The voice came again, louder this time. “Help me… please…”

It was soft, almost childlike, and it tugged at Ellie’s heart.

“I think someone’s trapped,” she said, standing. “We need to call someone—”

Before she could finish, the voice interrupted her.

“Don’t leave me.”

Ellie’s phone flickered, its beam dimming, and the air grew colder still.

Mark grabbed her arm. “This isn’t right. That doesn’t sound human.”

Ellie shook him off. “What if it’s a kid? I can’t just leave.”

She leaned over again, her flashlight barely holding its beam. “Are you hurt?”

The voice changed. It was no longer soft and childlike. It was deeper, raspier.

“Come closer.”

Ellie froze, a chill running down her spine.

“I think we should go,” Mark said, his voice shaking.

But Ellie couldn’t move. She stared into the darkness, her flashlight flickering until it went out completely. The voice laughed, echoing from deep below.

Something moved.

A pale, clawed hand shot up from the darkness, gripping the edge of the well. It was too long, too thin, its skin stretched taut over bones.

Ellie screamed, stumbling back. Mark grabbed her and ran, dragging her away as the hand clawed at the ground, pulling up a twisted, grinning figure.

Its hollow eyes glowed faintly, and its voice followed them as they ran.

“You came for me… don’t leave…”

They didn’t stop running until they reached the safety of the streetlights.

The next day, when Ellie returned with the police, the well was empty.

But she swore she could still hear the whisper.