A forsaken husband with a sick daughter bought a dilapidated house in a small town, but after hearing strange sounds from an old well, he decided to descend. What he saw made his hair stand on end…..

He had no money for new housing, and most importantly—Sophie was finally recovering. The country air was working; the cough had almost vanished, and the girl became active and cheerful again. How could he deprive her of that because of some night sounds? Instead of leaving, he decided to deal with the well once and for all.

If someone or something really lived there, he needed to find out. After all, he was a grown man, and small-town superstitions couldn’t scare him. Nicholas bought a lantern, rope, and hook in the nearby town.

If the well was really bottomless, at least he’d find out how deep it was. And if something was there, he’d handle it like a man. Meanwhile, the night sounds became clearer.

Now Nicholas could clearly make out a voice—female, young, full of despair. The voice called for help, begged, cried. Sometimes it seemed to call his name, but that could be imagination.

«Nick! Help me, Nick!» His heart clenched at that call. The voice held such pain, such hopelessness, that Nicholas felt a physical need to help. Whoever it was, he or she needed help.

Sophie heard the voice too. The girl became restless. She often woke at night and asked to sleep in her father’s bed.

She said nothing, but Nicholas saw fear in her eyes. «Dad, what if we move?» she asked one morning, poking at her oatmeal with a spoon. «Why, sunshine? Don’t you like it here?» «I do.»

But the voice in the well. It’s very sad. I feel sorry for it.

Nicholas realized he couldn’t delay anymore. Sophie was too impressionable, and these night sounds could harm her psyche. He had to act.

That same evening, after Sophie fell asleep, Nicholas took the lantern and rope and headed to the well. But first, he prepared more thoroughly. In the shed, he found an old ladder, checked its strength, gathered tools that might be useful.

If someone really needed help there, he had to be ready for any situation. The sounds started as soon as he left the house—quiet crying that grew louder with each step. But now Nicholas heard more details in them.

It wasn’t just crying; it was a whole range of sounds. Sobs, moans, sometimes something like words. And another sound that made him stop in the middle of the yard—quiet gurgling, like someone trying to breathe underwater.

His heart pounded wildly. But he forced himself to go forward. Up close, the well seemed even more ancient than in daylight.

The stones at its base were not just old; they were archaic, like remnants from some long-forgotten era. On some stones were strange symbols, carved or scratched with an unknown tool. Nicholas took out his phone and photographed several symbols.

In the flash light, they seemed even more sinister—curved lines resembling snakes or tree roots, intertwined in a complex pattern. One symbol particularly caught his attention; it was larger than the others and located right above the well’s entrance. It was a figure like a person with arms outstretched, but instead of a head, a spiral.

The iron cover had shifted even further, as if something from inside tried to move it. Upon closer inspection, Nicholas found that the metal was covered not just with rust; there were deep scratches on it, as if someone from inside had desperately tried to get out for a long time. Strange spots on the stones, which in daylight looked like ordinary mold, now, in the lantern light, resembled something else entirely.

They formed patterns, almost like writing, and were too symmetrical to be random. Nicholas leaned closer and made out silhouettes in them—human figures frozen in poses of agony or supplication. The air around the well was not just cold; it was heavy, as if saturated with invisible moisture.

Breathing became harder, and Nicholas felt sweat break out on his face, though the night was cool. The lantern began to dim, though the batteries were new. He leaned over the opening and directed the beam downward.

The light truly got lost in the darkness, not reaching the bottom, but now Nicholas noticed that this darkness was unusual. It was dense, almost material, like black fog absorbing the light. And in this darkness, something moved.

At first, he thought it was a play of shadows, but the movement was too purposeful. Something was slowly rising from the depths, approaching the surface. Nicholas backed away from the edge but couldn’t make himself leave.

He dropped a stone and started counting. One, two, three. The seconds dragged on endlessly.

Ten, eleven, twelve. And finally, after fifteen seconds, came a sound—not an impact on the bottom, but a splash. So there was water below.

But why did the stone fall so long? Is anyone there? He called, feeling foolish. His voice echoed off the well’s walls and returned distorted, as if passed through some filter. The crying instantly stopped.

Such silence fell that Nicholas heard not only his own breathing and heartbeat but something else—a quiet hissing, like air slowly escaping from a huge balloon. Then from the depths came a voice, and Nicholas realized he was wrong thinking of a person who accidentally fell. This voice sounded as if spoken underwater, and it held such longing, such hopelessness, that chills ran down Nicholas’s spine.

Help me! Please! I’ve been waiting so long! The voice was barely audible but absolutely real. Female, young, but with such weariness, as if it had sounded for many years. Nicholas felt his hair stand on end—not just from fear, but from pity.

Whoever it was, he or she was clearly suffering. Who are you? What happened to you? He shouted into the well. The answer didn’t come immediately.

First came something like a sob, then quiet laughter more like crying, and only then words: «Can’t! Get out! So long! Here! So cold and dark! Help me, please! I don’t want to be alone anymore!» In the last words was such pleading that Nicholas felt physical pain in his chest. The words came distorted, as if from underwater, but the emotion in them was so strong it left no doubt of the suffering’s authenticity. Nicholas inspected the rope again.

20 meters of strong climbing cord. He tied it to an old oak near the well, made several knots for security, and checked the fastening. The tree was massive, roots deep—it would hold.

But before descending, he decided to try connecting again with whoever was below. «What’s your name? How long have you been there?» «Olivia.» Came from below after a long pause.

«My name is Olivia.» «And the time?» «Time flows differently here. Sometimes it seems like eternity has passed, and sometimes like I just fell.»

«Fell? How did it happen?» «I don’t remember exactly. It hurt a lot. In the heart…