I sat in silence, staring at the black screen long after the second tape had ended. My mind struggled to process what I had just seen, my grandfather, descending into that dark, decaying tunnel, searching for my grandmother and then… putting her down. The horror of it was surreal, like watching a movie, except I knew it wasn't fiction. This was my family.
But there was something else, a feeling I couldn't shake, like a faint tugging deep in my gut. It was ridiculous, but… I had to see it. I had to see the well for myself.
With a strange sense of purpose, I stood, grabbed my coat, and stepped outside, feeling the cold air bite at my skin. The backyard loomed ahead, shrouded in shadows from the surrounding trees. And there, nestled among overgrown grass and vines, was the well.
I walked toward it slowly, feeling that odd pull grow stronger with each step. The well was old, built from moss-covered stones stacked with almost unnatural precision. But what caught my attention were the thick chains wrapped tightly around the wooden cover, rusted with age but still formidable.
I knelt down, running my fingers along the heavy padlock that secured the chains. Whatever my grandfather had witnessed, whatever he had gone down there to bury, he hadn't taken any chances. He'd made sure no one would open this thing again.
But as I knelt there, something strange began to happen. A faint vibration, a soft hum seemed to resonate from within the well, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I had the eerie sensation that something was watching me from below.
I shook my head, pushing away the ridiculous thought. It's just an old well, I told myself. Nothing more. But as I stood, I felt it again, a tug, gentle but insistent, like invisible fingers beckoning me closer.
No. I couldn't do this now. I needed… bolt cutters, something to get through those chains. And yet, even as I turned to head back to the house, I felt like I was leaving something unfinished.
I detoured to the shed, searching through old tools and equipment. I found gardening shears, a rusty hammer, and a collection of nails, but no bolt cutters. Frustrated, I let out a sigh and glanced back toward the well one last time. The sensation was still there, that subtle pull, as if something was whispering to me, guiding me back toward the darkness beneath the earth.
I shivered, feeling both drawn to it and repulsed at the same time. For now, I decided, it could wait.
I went back inside, hoping to shake the feeling with a distraction. I grabbed a Coke from the fridge, cracking it open with a satisfying hiss, and took a long sip. The cold fizz grounded me, bringing me back to reality, but my curiosity was far from satisfied. I couldn't ignore the remaining stack of tapes, especially the next one. The Dream.
My fingers hovered over the play button, and I could feel my pulse quicken with anticipation, and maybe a little fear. I took another sip of Coke, set the can down, and pressed play.
The screen flickered, and there he was, my grandfather, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking tired, sweaty, and, frankly, haunted. Dark circles ringed his eyes, his face lined with exhaustion. He looked directly into the camera, his gaze intense.
"If you're watching this, it means… you're probably seeing all of it," he said, his voice cracking slightly. He paused, took a deep breath, and continued, "For the past few weeks, I've been having… dreams."
He shifted uncomfortably, wiping a hand across his brow. "It's always the same. A woman, standing by the well, calling my name. She's… beautiful. Or she was." He swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he spoke. "She calls to me, Louis, over and over, like she's… waiting. And every night, it gets harder and harder to resist."
He shook his head, a flicker of fear crossing his face. "I know it's her. Or… whatever she's become." He exhaled shakily, almost as if confessing this out loud made it all the more real. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out. She's in my mind, pulling me down there… into the well."
A chill crawled down my spine. I felt it again, that tugging sensation, the strange pull I'd experienced just moments ago. I took another sip of Coke, trying to ignore the gnawing dread in the pit of my stomach.
Then, something happened on the tape. My grandfather looked around suddenly, his face paling. I heard it too, through the low hum of static—a soft, female voice, calling out one word:
"Louis…"
The sound echoed faintly, like a whisper drifting through the night. My grandfather's face contorted with fear as he scrambled to grab the camera, swinging it around toward the window, which framed the backyard and the well in the distance.
At first, I couldn't see anything. But then, as the camera zoomed in, I saw her.
There, by the well, stood a woman, or… something that looked like one. She was barely clothed, her figure illuminated by the moonlight, and her long, dark hair fell over her shoulders like a shroud. She wore only a pair of black panties, and her skin, deathly pale, almost translucent, seemed to glow faintly against the dark backdrop of the yard.
The woman raised a hand, curling one finger to beckon him closer. Her lips parted, and her voice came again, soft and alluring. "Louis… come."
I felt my heart slam against my ribs as I watched her, unable to tear my gaze away. Her face was shadowed, indistinct, but her eyes, cold and hollow, seemed to pierce through the screen, as if she could see me, right here, watching her.
"Louis…" she whispered again, that single word laced with a seductive pull, a voice that sent icy fingers crawling down my spine.
On the tape, my grandfather let out a strangled gasp, backing away from the window. The image shook as he stumbled back, then abruptly cut to black.