She didn’t remember falling into the well. It wasn’t because she hit her head; it’s because it took place so long ago. She lived her life down there. Her skin was white and sunken, reflecting a long forgotten crime. One committed before she was born. She lived, gathering strength through the damp bugs, hoping to one day to be able to climb out and see what the light above her was. The town didn’t know she was still alive. They threw her down there when she was an infant, thinking she would die when she hit bottom, but she thrived.
One day during a game of truth or dare, a couple boys above ground heard the rumors about the baby that has been in the well for sixteen years and decided to see if the bones were still there. They gathered ropes and slowly descended.
The girl was lying in the center of the hole and heard little beats as the boys hit the rocks on the way down. She hissed and retreated to the corner. She started biting at her sharp nails and groped around for the biggest rock that had fallen out of the sides. She chucked it at the first loud thud she heard. An “oof” resounded and she knew she hit her target. He collapsed and the other boys shouted up to the boys in the lead but they were too late. She pulled the next one down and grabbed onto the rope, slowly climbing up.
The full moon reflected on her face, making her eyes look even more sunken in. She ran, looking for familiar darkness and ended up running into the woods.