Death Before Water And Life After It

Death Before Water And Life After It

'The Avonlea Story Club'

Story no. #02 Inspired by prompt: “There was a legend about the well in the garden.” Time Duration: 1 May, 2023 - 31 May, 2023

Word Count: 2.6K Words Warning: horror elements, mention of illness, injuries, deaths etc.

Summary: Spending the summer vacation with an ill grandma in a remote village turns mysterious...

I attempted to write down a rare experience I got to have while I visited my late grandma’s village. The story I am about to tell is no ordinary tale. It is, in many ways, unbelievable too. So, I would rather let my readers decide upon believing it.

It was the summer of 2017. My grandma was diagnosed with a deadly disease and the doctors feared that she wouldn’t make it till the next year.  I had a long vacation of two months from school. I didn’t have any plans either. At that moment, my only desire was to visit my grandma for the last time on her deathbed, even though it was said that she couldn’t recognize anyone.

It was the very first time I sat foot in that remote village. I had expected a lot from it since it was located far away from the city. But in reality, nothing about the village appealed to me. It was just an ordinary village with ordinary people.

My grandma didn’t come to greet me. When I went to meet her, she didn’t even bother to look at me. I could tell by looking in her eyes that she was in pain. But as always, my sweet grandma didn’t want to burden anyone with it. I spent three days in the house without getting out for once. Within these three days, I had constantly sat beside grandma and talked to her in hope that she might recognize her youngest granddaughter at some point. But that didn’t happen.

Finally, it was the fourth day when I got bored of playing offline games on my phone. Since the network connection wasn’t the best at that place, I decided to take a look at my surrounding areas. Like I had mentioned before, the village had nothing interesting to enjoy. There was no place for sightseeing.

After some minutes of aimlessly walking around I came to a stop near what looked like a ruin of an old garden. I spent a minute or two looking at its broken gate. Then I finally went in. Once again, I was disappointed after finding nothing but a bunch of wild plants growing all around the place.

There was an old well at the far corner. I felt like I should go and check it before I left the place for good. As I walked towards it I felt uncomfortable and strange. I remembered I was all alone in an abandoned garden with no house that could be seen or people that could be heard.

Yet I couldn’t turn back without a close view of the well. It was as abandoned as the garden itself. Vines and roots grew all around it. The huge stones had cracks. When I peeked inside I was shocked to see water that hadn’t dried out yet. I could see my reflection perfectly in the black water inside.

I was about to go away when I heard someone behind me. There was a little boy sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the well. 

How come I didn't notice him in the first place?

He wasn’t wearing much clothes than necessary, I guessed it was because of the hot weather. He was dirty from his head to toe. I went closer to check on him. I found out that he was humming a tune while scratching his ankles.

“Hey!” I called him, “What are you doing here, all alone?”

He quitted humming at my intrusion and glanced at me for a moment. Then he looked down on his ankles and started to scratch them again. I felt an urge to stop him from doing that. His feet looked swollen and red.

Instead I asked, “Where are your parents?”

“They died… long ago,” he answered in a low voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that!” I went closer to sit in front of him, “Do you live nearby?” There were no houses in sight that could suggest his home. But I still looked around for any sign of life.

In reply, the boy looked at the well behind him for a moment. Then, he looked at me and asked, “Are you a foreigner?”

“No. I came from the city.” I replied.

“So, you are a foreigner!” he stated. This time with a thrill in his eyes. So, I nodded my head in defeat. Maybe he considered everyone apart from the villagers a foreigner.

“You shouldn’t do that.” I said, indicating his merciless scratching.

“It’s okay!” he smiled at me, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

I studied his face for a while. Even though it was dirty, I could tell that the boy was really beautiful. He had big doe eyes with long eyelashes. His small mouth looked really cute when he smiled. Also, he had the kind of smile that makes others do the same at its sight.

So, I automatically smiled back at him.

“C’mon!” I stood up, “I’m going now. You shouldn’t be here all alone. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“You’re going away already?” the boy asked. The smile on his face was gone. His big eyes were filling up with tears all of a sudden.

“Aww, don’t cry.” I said, giving him my hand, “I'm not leaving you. I’ll take you to your home.”

“I can’t go.” he shook his head.

“Why?” I asked, rather astonished at the bold reply coming from an otherwise soft spoken little boy.

The boy retreated to his previous position. He continued humming the tune and scratched his ankles as well. I tried convincing him to come with me for some time. He started to completely ignore me.

I checked my watch. It was past lunch time. I knew grandfather was probably really angry by now because he doesn’t like delaying meal times. So, I told the boy to go home early and not to come to the place again. I had to leave him alone by the well.

I had almost forgotten all about it. But another meeting reminded me of my encounter with the little boy by the well.

I laid awake in my bed. The little boy sat at the furthest corner from me. I stared at him for some time, watching him scratch his ankles and humming the familiar tune.

When our eyes met, he let himself smile. "You're awake!" He stated.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"I came because you didn't come to see me again." He replied.

"Did you wait for me?" I asked.

The boy nodded.

"Where?"

"Why? By the well in the garden!"

"Didn't I tell you not to go there alone?"

The boy laughed at me, "But I live there, silly."

I didn't understand him. Suddenly I remembered I was sleeping and I hadn't really woken up.

How could I tell that I was dreaming?

"Oh no! You're gonna wake up now, aren't you?" The boy pouted his lips.

"How do you…" I couldn't finish my question. I was already awake. And as I checked, the boy was gone too.

I couldn't make myself go back to sleep again. It was already dawn. So, I walked around the house. I heard my grandma calling me from within her room as I walked past it. My eyes grew larger.

She remembered me!

"Oh, granny. My lovely, granny." I sprinted inside her room and hugged her.

"When did you come, my love?" She asked, a sweet smile on her lips.

"Almost a week ago."

We talked for some time. Grandma said that she felt a lot better and was so happy to see me. She wondered why mother didn't come. I said she was very busy with her work. I lied because I didn't want to worry her about mother's health. And I knew she wasn't the type to get hurt when someone couldn't manage their time. It is a cruel world, after all.

At some point, grandma was reminiscing about the old times. Long ago when she was young and not yet married. She used to live here, in this village, at that time. She talked as if her memory of her childhood was just a few days back. I felt like she had forgotten me at some stage and mistook me for her best friend of childhood instead as she talked.

At one point, I asked her about the old garden. I asked if it was in use at her times. She looked at me with dreadful eyes, "don't speak of it. Don't you know, it's a forbidden place to walk in?"

"Why is it forbidden, Grandma?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, dear!" She suddenly started to laugh, "I keep forgetting that it's you." and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"Grandma," I called, "Please, tell me about the garden. I wanna know."

"It was a long time ago. Even before I was born. There was a legend about the well in the garden." grandma spoke dreamily.

"What legend?"

"At the time when the first gypsies came to settle down in the land, it was a barren one. No river. No rain. Nothing. Nobody knows why the river gypsies chose to live in such a land after years of floating in water. But they struggled against this land. It wasn't habitable for life at all. They decided they'll excavate a well. After months of labor they did it too. But it was only a matter of days  before the water dried out after the well was built."

"Why?" I asked as grandma stopped to take a breath.

Grandma nodded, "it was a cursed place. Everyone in the village had dreams about the well afterwards. An unknown entity would visit them in their dreams and ask them to negotiate with it. The negotiation was a human life in exchange for water.

"People were scared. They forbade everyone to go near the well. They decided to leave the place for good. Some of them even ran away from home in fear. But the nightmares didn't stop. The entity was hungry for human life. Finally, it got what it wanted.

"A little boy of a lonely mother wandered off to the well one day. When he returned home at sunset, both of his legs were found being chained. The mother walked along the long chains only to find that it led inside the very well her people had built. The more they pulled the chains, the more it grew in length, coming out of the dried well. No blacksmith could damage the chain, not even a little scratch could be made on it.

"The villagers started to see a different version of their same old nightmare. The entity now asked them the life of that little boy only. Then, started the gossip.

"The boy was an illegitimate child. His mother was not a very welcomed person in the community. They lived almost a separated life. Maybe the entity chose wisely. Maybe they should abide by its rule. Maybe the boy could be sacrificed for the sake of all.

"But the mother was a mad woman. She wouldn’t give up on her only gem. She would rather her son lived with the chains around his legs forever. The child cried. He cried all day and night. He said that his legs itched. And as he scratched them again and again, the skin had peeled off and left him wounded.

"'Mama, it hurts.' The boy pleaded with his mother to get rid of his shackles. But nothing could be done for his aid. The villagers, at one point, stopped even trying. The herbal remedy his mother gave him was useless.

"'Let me go, then.' The boy pleaded again. His mother denied.

"Finally, the boy decided for himself. When his mother would be asleep, he would go to the well again. He would ask the well what it wanted from him. And so he did. Nobody heard of the little boy anymore. Someone said that the boy had jumped off to the well himself. But nobody knew because there wasn't a body to be found.

"Since that day, there hasn't been any scarcity of water from the well. The well never dried off after. A beautiful garden grew around the land. No-one had any more nightmares. The gypsies finally overcame another adversary that was the most challenging in their community life. They lived happily ever after."

Grandma finished her story and looked at me with a smile.

"But Grandma," I spoke, "this isn't the type of story that ends with 'happily ever after'."

"Why not?" grandma asked, "the villagers, in fact, did live happily."

"What about the boy? And his mother?"

"Now," grandma stated, "they weren't the hero of my story, were they?"

"You've got a point," I said, "But don't you think that the boy could be the most tragic hero if it was said from his perspective?"

"He could be." Grandma thought for a moment, "Why don't you rewrite it in your own words then? Maybe you can do him some justice."

Before I left grandma for breakfast, I asked her one last question, "since everything is resolved, why did you say that it was a forbidden garden in the beginning?"

"Because, darling!" She looked at me as if it was so obvious, "the little boy can still be seen roaming around it."

I went to the garden that day. It was obvious what grandma told me was just a legend. And a legend can be a lie. Or at least partially. Maybe there was an incident of a boy's drowning. Maybe the nightmares originated from the collective superstitious belief of the gypsies. Or maybe, just maybe, there was an entity involved.

Whatever happened a long time ago, I could never know them for sure. I could only assume the story from my perspective and my beliefs in particular superstitions. But I didn't feel like I could rest till I saw that little boy again and demanded some kind of explanation. It might sound a little crazy to the readers but my mind couldn't make out any reasonable explanation of the boy's peculiar behavior at the moment.

I waited from morning till noon. But he didn't come. I didn’t know that some terrible news awaited me at home other than the fear that grandfather might be mad at me for missing another lunch.

Grandma was no more. My sweet, lovely grandma. The grandma who had talked with me just this dawn. I was told that the servant found her dead when he went to serve her breakfast. I almost didn’t believe it. But I accepted at last as we all do eventually.

I stayed till the funeral was over. Then I immediately packed everything to leave the place. I didn’t think I could stay at the house without feeling my grandma's presence.

But before I left, I had to solve something within myself. I had to see the boy again. I went to the garden for the last time. And as expected he was already waiting for me.

"Why didn't you tell me everything beforehand?" I questioned him, "Didn't you want me to know?"

"You know because I showed you." The same old smile on his face.

"But why me, of all people?"

He walked towards me and placed his cold hands on mine. It was the only time he had really touched me. He said hopefully, "You'll let them know, won't you? They'll finally know."

"Know what?" I asked, a little confused.

"The truth!"

I didn't understand him wholly that day. After years it somehow dawned on me. The little boy wanted the world to know. Not just the legend of the well in the garden. But the little life it took that made it possible.

Author's note: The story is inspired by a folktale my grandma had long ago told me that originated from her hometown. It was about how a pond was excavated and a child's life was offered for it to contain water. There are many versions of this story. The story is really memorable to me and honestly, I still get chills whenever I think about it. I made some changes to the plot to match the given prompt. I don't know if I could do it any justice. But I'm glad I made an effort to preserve one of the less known folktales of my country.

P.S. The country is Bangladesh…

I’m Back...

I am attending my last exam tomorrow. Soon, I’ll be posting regularly again. At least, I hope so...

These are what you’re gonna get before long:

The last part of ‘My Guardian Angel’

Fast updates on the series ‘Noona! Please! Help!’

Slow updates on the series ‘The Other Side’

Personal review on Jin’s single ‘The Astronaut’

Short drabbles, if I have the time and mood

BARBIEPOSTERS +HYYH (insp.)

Really love that Arthur is the Once and Future King because we imortalize him. We keep bringing him back through our stories. 

Singularity

Fandom: BTS

Pairing: Namjoon × Reader

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“Shit!” I huffed out as I had to climb the stairs up to the third floor and my poor lungs wouldn’t want to cooperate as always, “I forgot my water bottle at home again.”

“You can have mine, no problem!” a boy handed me his half filled plastic bottle.

I usually follow one rule while drinking water from other people’s bottles. I ask them if they touch their lips to the bottles opening while drinking and usually refuse to drink from the same bottle if they do.

That day, however, I didn’t have the mind to do that as I straight up uncapped the bottle to finish the whole thing in one go. When I looked up to say ‘thanks’ and ‘sorry’, he was already gone. As it was almost time for the next class, I supposed he hurried to get to his. I remembered the boy’s name to be Namjoon.

Namjoon was a boy I would often see in between classes. Sometimes we would nod, ask when the next class was or simply smile at each other. And then, we’d go our separate ways. I knew him just like that. I didn’t remember ever having a full conversation with him.

I didn’t see him again after that day. But I heard some rumors about him around the campus not long after. He was accused of saying something that sparked controversy. Since I didn’t know him in person I never expressed my opinion on the matter. But I had a lingering wish to meet him again, to return his empty plastic bottle that I still carry in my bag.

That wish came true when I finally saw him again.

He was having lunch at an empty table at the corner of the cafeteria. There was no one around so I walked up to him right away.

“I’m so sorry I could not return your bottle that day!” I had told him.

“What bottle?” He looked at me with genuine confusion.

I took out the said bottle from my bag to put on the table. Namjoon let out a chuckle at its sight. “You wanted to return this?”

“I know, it might not be a huge deal to you. But I literally can’t sleep in peace until I return what I borrow from someone else. Be it a pen or book or whatever.” I explained myself clearly to which Namjoon nodded and took the empty bottle off the table.

“I’ll take it back then.” He said, “Hope it gives you some peace.”

He shook his head slightly and laughed. For some reason, I felt overwhelmed seeing him laugh like that. His eyes completely vanished behind the wrinkles as he laughed. He looked so unreal. I couldn’t make up my mind why I was feeling that way at such a small act of someone I barely knew. But I had a feeling that it was a moment I would never witness again. I felt the need to capture it in a picture so that I could look at it whenever I wanted to.

However, I didn't take his picture that day. Instead I stood there for a while, enjoying the moment as it was. He didn’t invite me to sit next to him. I wished he did.

The next time I heard about Namjoon was from a group of friends talking about college in general. I wasn't minding their gossip until I heard them speak about him.

"Good grades aren't everything, you see!" One of them said, "you need to have a better character to not be kicked out of school like that."

I was shocked to find what happened to Namjoon regarding those rumors. As much as I wanted to interrupt their conversation, I couldn't bring myself to do so. Yet my heart couldn't believe a word of the dirty talks I heard around. Even though I wasn't a friend of his, neither was I an acquaintance, in my heart, I still pictured him as the smiling boy who had helped me at the time I needed it.

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Note: Inspired by a dream...

My Masterlist

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(Mrs. Fainall, The Way of the World)

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