Things Strange and Dull

When I was five, I was with my parents at my uncle's house. He had a well in his back yard, which he would repeatedly refer to as the deepest well in the county.

The first time I saw it, I stared over the edge of the stone-wall casing and looked into the cool darkness. I felt my mind travel down the well before my uncle broke my reverie, shouting in his obnoxious voice about how he had the last well in the county that wasn't yet dry. My father looked down the well over my shoulder, in awe with pride for his older brother.

That night, while my family slept, I snuck off in the darkness to look down the well again to continue my fascination with the reverie my uncle had cut short. I got to the well and crouched on top of the casing, spreading my arms over the well's entrance, balancing myself directly over the dark circle below.

I felt the damp, black space and knew that it was was different from the darkness in the night sky. It was somehow ricker, more pure and tangible. I reached down to see if my hand could grab some of the dense nothingness, or if my hand would simply dissolve into it.

As i reached, I lost my balance, as most children would have, and fell. The fall took some time, and luckily, I never hit the sides of the well. I splashed in the bottom in the cold water, then struggled to the surface. Coughing, i looked up from where i was treading water, staring back into the night. The sky blended smoothly in with the sides of the well and i felt myself enveloped in a cold void. With this, my panicking stopped, and then i began screaming.