Anna Maria Manalo

Part 9: The Wishing Well

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Closing in on the ending! I welcome any comments from my followers and stories readers would like included in the blog. I am taking a much-needed vacation and will commence with new stories upon my return in October! Feel free to contact me on my contact page with a story.

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Meanwhile, watch for my newsletter for the release of UNHOLY STRUCTURE. This is my fourth book based on a case of an infested mansion from a local paranormal investigator, John Curley who is the founder of the Harrisburg Area Paranormal Society.


Here’s Part 9:

The screen door whined as Delia exited the kitchen into the chill of night, a plastic grocery bag in one hand. She tossed it to the side. Behind her, all lights from her house’s windows were pitch dark . It was past one in the morning.

She breathed in, exhaled, blowing out a familiar anxiety that seemed to cover her like a hot towel on a humid day. She stood, surveying the surrounding backyard, her feet bare on the floorboards of the small back porch.

Something swooped above her and Delia instinctively recoiled, afraid of bats.

She limped forward towards the railing, leaning over to look past the small roof, searching for the origin of the noise. A large bird. Perhaps the same one she saw fly past her window a few weeks before she met Charles and Alaina. That seemed a long time ago. It was now the beginning of the second marking period and the tone of the woods had given way to an impenetrable gloom as fall took an inexorable hold of the forest. BUT, Delia had friends. It was different now. She had two and soon there will be more, like the friends she left behind in suburban Boston. Delia allowed herself to smile in the darkness. Everything will be all right.

It seemed that the large bird smiled back as it sat on a branch. Its dark feathers appeared to glisten with unseen eyes. Delia watched it watch her as she tried to determine its nature. It was about the size of a turkey vulture which fed on carrion. Worry coursed through her features as she observed the bird, perched and unmoving, as if it was waiting for her to make the next move.

And she did.

Delia grabbed the plastic bag, descended the steps, gingerly placing her naked feet on a pair of sneakers that sat on the bottom step. She sat, tied each foot and stared one last time at the bird which appeared to follow her with it’s eyes. Its unsmiling eyes, devoid of depth, of feeling.

Its unsmiling eyes, like the unsmiling eyes of Alaina, when she finally realized what Delia was doing.

Delia pulled down the legs of her pajamas, buttoned her top all the way to her neck and limped towards the garage – a separate two-car affair that needed a new roof.

The wooden door screeched as Delia entered the dark garage and searched.

A spade. Did she need the rope? Nope, she thought. This should do.

Delia grabbed the long gardening tool, checking the dirt at the bottom. It looked clean enough. Delia looked up at the dark loft of the two-floor garage, made to appear like a small barn. Up there was where her dad kept his tent, fishing gear and outdoor paraphenalia. Something hung from one of the beams almost over her father’s truck. It was moving, staring, watching her.

Tucked in wings, like dead leaves, moved. Upside down. A bat. Delia gawked and shivered.

She backed away silently, in stealth, shutting the garage door behind her.

Outside, the sensor light from the driveway came on. Delia stood still, watching to make sure it didn’t awaken her parents. She limped away from the light. No lights inside their bedroom came on.

A narrow path lit only by the stars. Delia limped forward, dragging the shovel in one hand and the bag in her other hand. She had decided against the flashlight, but now felt she needed it.

Delia paused, temporarily disoriented. She looked up at the brooding mountain which appeared closer from the garage for some reason. Now it seemed alive, moving away from her. Like Alaina and Charles. Even Charles.

Charles who was so friendly.

Charles who walked along with her while Alaina walked behind her, sneering.

Charles who laughed at her jokes when Alaina didn’t.

Charles who helped her when she almost fell.

She sensed Alaina’s growing disdain as Charles warmed towards Delia.

Then it changed as they stood around the well.

Alaina said it was boring. Just a well. What’ s in it?

He peered down and noticed what Delia had noticed.

“Dead animals. So what?” Alaina asked.

Charles just stared down the well, appearing perplexed.

Why are you so weird, he had asked. Delia was feeling that familiar welling of tears, of betrayal, of sudden loss. Alaina was grinning, as if she was enjoying the comments, all aimed at Delia.

“Don’t you find it strange that there’s dead animals down there?” Delia had asked.

No, they said almost in unison. You’re strange. You’re weird.

“So how did they get stuck down there?” Delia asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Alaina had started laughing. Then, Charles started laughing.

“You think it’s normal to have dead animals in a well?” Delia asked, perplexed.

“There’s hunters all over the place, you idiot!” Alaina said.

“You see the vultures? They drop roadkill down there!” Charles added, laughing.

Delia’s mind went blank as she saw flashes before her eyes. Her body was in shock and her jaw fixed as it took hold of her tongue. What she wanted to say in her fury was locked in. She had WISHED for friends. IN THIS WELL. Her wishing well.

“It’s unused, silly. Hunters toss animal parts they don’t want in there.” Alaina smugly said.

“I don’t think so.” Delia added.

“Well, your well sucks. It’s no different from any well and it’s boring the crap outta me.” Alaina said.

Delia’s hands found her and began working. She grabbed the coiled rope and approached the well.

“I’ll show you.” Delia uncoiled her father’s rope and began to make a noose.

Charles grabbed it. “You’re crazy! You’ll fall and hurt yourself.”

“Let her. She’s loony anyway.” Alaina said.

“She’s weird, but she’s not gonna hurt herself. We’ll be in trouble.” Charles counseled.

Delia darted a look back, angry at Charles. “You take that back. I’m not weird. You’re just mean.”

“See? Why should we care?” Alaina quipped.

Delia’s eyes took on a look. An idea. She grinned at the two. “I dare you to go down there and prove it’s just roadkill.”

Charles wound the noose around his waist and tied the rope’s end to the well’s post where a bucket stood rusting.

“What the fuck??!” Alaina yelled. “You’re not…”

“I am.” Charles interjected.

Delia grabbed the other end and tied it to a post by the bucket.

Charles stepped up, sat at the edge.

“You’re going to move it slow, okay?” Charles asked Delia.

Delia smiled.

Charles placed his feet against the opposite wall of the well and slipped.

“It’s all moldy! ” Charles yelled as he held on to the rope, swinging.

Delia let go. The rope kept unraveling.

It was deeper than they thought.

“Charles! Charles!” Alaina glared at Delia in terror. “You bitch. You made him go down there!”

Go help him then. Delia said.

With one shove, Delia pushed Alaina down the well.

Thump. A scream.

Delia grabbed the rope. She looked down, paused, limped away, then turned. She looked down.

Darkness.

Something was ripping.

Ripping…

She grabbed the rope and pulled to hoist Charles, but the weight was unbearable. Alaina was on top of him. Perhaps.

She pulled. Pulled. Pulled. Too heavy.

The rope was ripping. That sound that later haunted her in a nightmare for months.

Delia pulled again…. and suddenly the rope was allowing her to pull the rest of it up.

The end was unraveled.

No Charles.

She pulled herself up to the edge of the stone edge and peered.

“Charles! Answer me!”

Silence.