Darolyn’s Well

By Joe Doyle-Gibson

“You know the legend, don’t you?” asks Meghan.

Jeremy shrugs. “Every town has legends. Every well probably does too. Most are just the same legend with new clothes on. Every town likes to think they're special… I get it.”

“Oh?” says Meghan, a sly smile on her face. “If you’ve heard it all before, then what’s this well’s legend?”

“Well, there are a few options,” says Jeremy. He tries to visualize the notes he scribbled down in his Introduction to Folklore class at the university. “Either some really religious person used to come here and bless the water and now the water is basically holy—cue the old folks lining up to drink a cup to help with arthritis and cataracts. Or, on the flip side, something bad happened and now no one dares to drink from it. Classic water legends… either it’s a miracle cure, or it’s poison.”

“Very good, college boy. I knew you’d be interested in this,” says Meghan. She goes to the well and leans over the four foot high stone lip. She picks up a loose piece of stone and lets it drop down the black hole. It takes about five seconds for them to hear the splash. “So which do you think this is?”

“Well,” says Jeremy. “Even though it’s past midnight and all the old folks are probably in their beds, so I can’t technically rule that option out, I’m going to say it’s poison.”

Meghan laughs. 

Jeremy says, “You really do take some sick fascination in freaking your cousin out, don’t you?” 

“What can I say? When Mom and Dad said you were staying with us for the summer I figured I’d be a good sport and show you around. Might learn a few things for that Folklore program you’re working through.”

Jeremy stands next to her by the well. He leans over to peer into the dark hole. He breathes in heavily. “Smells like stone. Nothing weird.”

“Smells like death,” says Meghan, barely holding back a laugh.

“If it’s really poisonous, we could test the water. Bad things happen to groundwater all the time.”

“The thing is,” says Meghan, composed and serious again. “It’s not actually poison in that sense.”

“Okay…”

“It’s haunted.”

“Right,” says Jeremy, now he’s trying not to laugh.

“The legend goes that any one who drinks from the well will be haunted by a little girl named Darolyn for the next 48 hours, or however long it takes for that water to go through your body. The water in the ground around the well isn’t affected, only the water from the well.”

“Good story. And that’s because…”

“Just wait,” snaps Meghan. “I’m getting to that. So about a hundred years ago, a ten year old girl died after falling down the well. The only thing was she didn’t really fall, she was thrown down by her father. Apparently they all went crazy from drinking the well water. The dad killed the whole family. But the little girl ended up down the well.”

“Ah,” Jeremy steps back from the well and puts his hands in his pockets trying to keep the chilly air from slipping up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “That’s a good story. A little inconsistent though. So the well is haunted by the girl, but the well was already making people crazy before that? Kind of confused. Story probably got messed up in the telling of it over the years. Interesting name though. Darolyn. Like Carolyn with a D?”

“Yep.”

“Hm. Always good to personalize it with a different name. But the main elements of the story… I think I’ve heard something similar before.”

Meghan rolls her eyes. “Leave it to you to suck all the fun out of a spooky story.”

“I like a spooky story as much as the next guy. But I’m trying to look at it academically.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Meghan, waving her hand as if she’s tired of him talking. “So what do you say? Since you’re so academic about this, care to test the water out and see for yourself?”

Jeremy scoffs.

“Come on, college boy.” Meghan is absolutely gleeful. She’s always like this when they are together. She’s a whole two months older than him and she loves to make it seem like a world of difference. She is the ‘show’er, the teacher, the teaser, while he is always the younger cousin who has to be shown, taught, and teased—even if he is a college boy now. “What do you say?” Meghan continues. “How about a sip before bed?”

“I say, even without the threat of a haunting, drinking that water gives me about a 50/50 chance of dysentery in these parts.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit, Jeremy,” says Meghan. She isn’t going to let this go. “People don’t get dysentery from wells in Alberta. This is Canada.”

“If you grew up on a reservation, you might think differently about that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Meghan. “I think you’re just scared. You spend all day with your nose in your books turning real things into broken down story structure bullshit. You ever think that maybe there’s a legend here because something really did happen?” She gets a diabolical look on her face; her thin black eyebrows arch up and she licks her lips. “Or should I say, something really does happen here.”

“You’re not going to shut up about this are you?”

“You actually are scared though, aren’t you?”

“Give me the damn water,” says Jeremy. 

Meghan turns the old wooden crank above the well and reels in the metal pail that had been submerged deep down in the black waters. 

Jeremy laughs defiantly at Meghan. “What a dumb legend.” Then he takes the pail, puts his lips an inch away. He hesitates just a moment—long enough for Meghan to chide him and slap him on the back. “Go on, you wuss!”

His lips touch the cold black metal of the pail. He thinks of all the hundreds of kids who had been talked into doing something similar—worries he might actually pick up a bug from letting something unsanitary into his mouth—then he drinks.

The water is cold—of course it is—all well water is. Otherwise it is completely unremarkable.

“There,” says Jeremy. “You happy?”

“Happy you aren’t a wuss?” laughs Meghan. “You’ve got a long way to go if you want to be cool in these parts, Cuz.”

“Come on,” says Jeremy. “Let’s go back to the house and do something fun.”

“Enough folklore for the folklorist for one evening?”

Jeremy rolls his eyes. Even at 19 years old, his cousin still has a way at stripping him of his dignity. “I hope I get diarrhea for real and mess up the guest bed just so you have to clean it in the morning.”

“You mess up those sheets and I’ll kill you!”

Back at the house, Jeremy says goodnight to Meghan, though it’s really more of a goodnight shrug. 

The spare bed in the guestroom is just a twin. Jeremy thinks about how the last time he stayed here, he and Meghan were small enough that both of them could fit in the bed. Now, his feet dangle over the edge. At 6’3”, the mattress isn’t particularly comfortable for Jeremy. But after walking the hills around town with Meghan all day, listening to her go on and on about her life and about all the dumb legends in town, Jeremy is exhausted. He blinks twice, ready to fall asleep, but then doesn’t. He hears a faint tapping on the window outside. It’s drizzling outside, and there’s a leak in the gutter above the window. A drip of water is the culprit. Jeremy can’t help but focus on it. He starts to count the seconds between each drip. Then he tells himself not to as it only seems to be making him feel more awake. Pretty soon, the sleep that felt so imminent, starts to feel less and less attainable. He blinks again, then holds his eyes shut. He does his best to block out all the sounds. The creeping buzz of sleep—come to take him away to dreamland—can just barely be felt. But then his eyes open again. Not sure if he’s awake or dreaming now.

“Hello,” says a high-pitch voice in his right ear. It’s as clear as any voice ought to be. Not fuzzy and faint like a dream. Jeremy, startled to his core, sits up and looks to the dark corner of the room to his right. But his body feels extremely slow. He’s still not sure if he’s dreaming or not.

Then he hears the sound of something scuttling around on the floor.

A rat? he thinks. I thought there were no rats in Alberta? Also, rats don’t say “hello.”

He figures it must be Meghan playing a trick on him. But aren’t they too old for this?

More scuttling. But Jeremy is feeling all tired and fuzzy again. He puts his head back down on the pillow. Is he going back to sleep or waking up?

“Hello,” says the voice again. It’s definitely a girl’s voice.

Jeremy turns his head back to the dark corner of the room.

There’s a shape. 

Okay, he thinks. I’m definitely asleep. And I’ll prove it.

He jumps out of bed and charges at the shape, certain that touching it will jolt him back into waking consciousness. But the shape moves before he can reach it. It’s down on the floor now. 

It is a girl. But she’s all wet and gray looking. And her eyes aren’t there. And her lips are black. Her teeth are all gone too. But where they should be are little slivers of stone. “How’s the water, Jeremy?” she says.

Jeremy, even more certain that he’s still dreaming, goes to stomp on the dead-looking girl. But she slides under the bed, as if she was lying on a dolly and someone, someone off-screen, under the bed, pulls a string attached to it to have her glide seamlessly under the bedskirt.

Jeremy is trying to speak. As he does, he realizes he’s no longer standing up. He’s back in bed. He’s trying to call for Meghan but his words aren’t coming. He’s practically screaming—trying to—but nothing’s happening.

Then the door opens. Sunlight floods the room. Meghan is standing in the doorway.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up, lazy butt,” she says. “Don’t tell me I walked in on you doing something I don’t want to know about.”

Jeremy realizes he’s sweating. He sits up in bed. “I guess I slept in.”

They spend the morning doing chores around the yard, helping Meghan’s parents trim the grass and rake the first few yellow leaves of the season. “That’s the first bag full,” says Meghan’s dad. “There’ll be about a thousand more by the time it’s October.”

Meghan’s mom looks at her watch. “I’m calling it a day. Too hot. What do you guys think about driving to the lake?”

“Sure,” says Meghan.

“Sure,” says Jeremy. At this point he’s completely put the well story out of his mind. The nightmare he had—he knows that’s what it was—is brushed aside and mostly forgotten.

Meghan and her folks go into the house to gather some towels and snacks to bring with them to the lake. Jeremy wanders around the front lawn, looking up at the tall ash trees at the edge of the property. Then he hears something thump.

He looks over at the van parked in the driveway—certain that’s where the sound came from. He walks to the window to investigate. There’s something on it. A wet hand print.

“What the…” Jeremy looks back to the house. Then he squats down to look under the car. “Very funny, Meghan. Come out, you brat!” He opens the van’s sliding door. “How did you get in here so fast?” But the van is empty. “Meghan?”

He feels a hand on his shoulder and nearly jumps out of his shorts. 

“Take it easy!” says Meghan. “Were you calling me?”

“You are seriously going to keep messing around with me about the well thing?”

“What?” Meghan looks legitimately confused. “You mean Darolyn’s well? The story I told you?” 

“Don’t act stupid,” says Jeremy, not buying the act. 

Meghan starts to laugh. She’s almost crying. “Man, I can’t believe how freaked out I made you.” She mocks a basketball slam dunk. “Score 1 for Meg. Jeremy—nil!”

“I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“Ew, I’m your cousin. I’d rather you didn’t.” Meghan pretends to look offended. 

They get in the car. The teasing continues between them for a few minutes after they get going toward the lake. Then Meghan’s dad puts on some music. Jeremy turns to look out the window. 

They head south through rolling hills, mostly grasslands. Soon, the hills become taller and the grass is replaced by pine, aspen, and cottonwood. Everything’s normal until they get to the lake and decide to go for a swim. Meghan’s in the lake first, cannonballing off the dock. Jeremy takes his time, reading his book by Carl Jung on the beach, not wanting to seem too much like a kid, before easing himself slowly into the lake. Meghan isn’t having any of it.

“Come on and jump in! It’s not that cold!” She does a flip in the water. Her bobbing head is replaced momentarily by her bikinied bottom and her tucked in feet, before her head pops up again.

Jeremy is in up to his belly button, then says screw it and dives in the rest of the way. He swims out to Meghan. He can no longer feel the rocky bottom under foot anymore. 

“Race you to the other side,” says Meghan. 

“Yeah, right,” says Jeremy, playfully splashing her. “Just so you can beat me and rub it in? I don’t think so. I know you were on the swim team.”

“Oh, come on,” says Meghan. “Have some fun! I’ll give you a five second head start.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Fine. Let’s go on three. One, two… three!”

Jeremy is off doing the breaststroke. Meghan is a half second behind but quickly makes up the distance. She takes the lead about half way across the lake, which at this point is only about 200 feet wide. 

Jeremy has his eyes closed for the most part to keep the water out, but he opens them for a moment to see where Meghan is. When he puts his head back in the water he sees something black move below him. It’s too deep in the shadows of the lake to make out, but it seems to be swimming at the same rate as him. 

He gets to the other side of the lake and Meghan’s already up, sitting on a big boulder that juts out from the forest edge.

“Not bad,” says Meghan. “By the end of the week, I’ll have you trained and ready to take anyone on.” She stands up on the rock and then executes a perfect swan dive into the water just to the right of Jeremy. While her side of the family got all the athletic ability, Jeremy thinks to himself, his side got all the brains. He’s happy with how that worked out.

He feels something pull his leg down. His face is momentarily submerged. Water goes up his nose. Meghan’s head pops out of the water. She’s laughing. “Did I scare you?”

“Piss off,” says Jeremy, only half serious. 

“I hope all college guys aren’t as stuck up as you,” teases Meghan. Then she’s off swimming again, leaving Jeremy alone on that side of the lake.

He treads water for a few minutes and looks around at the forest that meets the edge of the lake. The water isn’t actually that cold and the sun is pleasantly warm. For a moment he is really enjoying himself. If he lived in the area, he could imagine coming down here a lot. 

Then he feels something on his foot. Do they have fish in this lake? Most lakes do. Don’t they?

But now, whatever is touching him isn’t just touching him. It’s wrapped around his ankle and pulling him down. He tries to kick away but it’s still pulling him. His head’s under the water now. And he’s starting to panic. Then he sees it: a small hand is clasped around his ankle. The attached body is indiscernible in the darkness of the lake. But—

No. It can’t be. Meghan couldn’t be…

—Jeremy knows what it is. Knows who it is.

He’s kicking and thrashing harder now, starting to lose air. The water is coming into his mouth and going down his throat. This isn’t good. His arms are still touching air though, so he isn’t that far down. 

Then someone is pulling him in the other direction. Meghan’s got a hold of his shoulder. 

Jeremy looks down at his ankle and the little hand is gone. He’s completely free.

“What the hell!” says Meghan when they’re back on the beach. “What happened? You looked like you were drowning.”

Jeremy doesn’t say anything. He goes to the changing room next to the ice cream stand up by the parking lot. He goes directly to one of the bathroom stalls and throws up into the toilet.

After cleaning his face, he looks into the mirror at himself. 

You’re going crazy. Whatever it is, you’re just over stressed. Maybe you’re sick or something. He makes a mental note to check his temperature when he gets back to Meghan’s house. Maybe there really was something wrong with that well water. Maybe there was some mercury or something in it, something that makes you feel crazy.  That’s got to be it. The water is contaminated…The vision of the girl is just some side effect. But to have hallucinations so specific…

Suddenly, he’s excited about this. Maybe the legends of the girl were just created to explain the hallucinations people experienced after drinking the water. A mold perhaps. It’s not out of the question. He thinks of the famous cases of witch flight from a few hundred years ago. People could have sworn they’d changed into animals or could fly on a witch’s broomstick. But they were just hallucinating because they’d eaten some bread with mold on it. Maybe this wasn’t so different. 

Now, he’s really buzzing. He figures this is some kind of great discovery. He could have the water tested and use the whole thing as the basis for his final essay in his folklore class. It’s almost too perfect. 

Jeremy thinks about all of this on the car ride back to the house. Meghan isn’t bugging him—maybe because of the drowning incident. Maybe she’s actually being considerate for a change. Either way, Jeremy is thankful.

When they’re back at the house, Jeremy immediately starts up the path in the backyard that leads to the well. 

“Hey! Wait up,” says Meghan. She’s got a bag of ruffles with her. “You okay? Since the…” She looks embarrassed about trying to be sensitive. “Look, you’re a weirdo at the best of times, but… I don’t know.”

Jeremy manages a smile. Inside he’s laughing. “You know, I think there’s really something to that well story you told me.”

“Oh, Jeremy. You’re still thinking about that? God, it’s just a kid’s story.”

“Maybe. But I think there’s really something going on with the water in there. Maybe a mold or something.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jeremy ignores the question, is walking down the path toward the well.

When he gets to the well, he starts turning the crank. When the pail is up on the ledge he unties the rope attached to the handle.

“What are you going to do with that?” asks Meghan. “You mean you’ve been acting all weird because of the well?”

“I want to get a sample to take back to the university,” says Jeremy. “Have you ever actually known of anyone else drinking from the well and having an experience?”

Meghan shakes her head. “I guess I’ve never actually had any myself. I think we used to scare ourselves out of drinking any—me and my friends—when we were younger.”

Jeremy gets an idea. He doesn’t tell Meghan. He doesn’t want her to be influenced by the power of suggestion. He doesn’t want her to fake anything either. He just shrugs and takes the pail and starts back to the house.

Meghan follows. She’s talking about something else, a movie they might watch that night, but Jeremy isn’t really listening. He’s just thinking of the plan.

Back at the house he transfers the water in the pail into a stainless steel water bottle. He leaves a cup or two left in the pail. That portion is for the plan.

He bides his time while dinner is being prepared. Meghan’s mom puts out a pitcher of lemonade on the counter. It’s what Jeremy’s been waiting for. When everyone else is occupied, tending to dinner, or visiting the washroom, Jeremy pours the water in the pail into the lemonade.

Over the next few hours, the pitcher of lemonade is consumed by everyone—except Jeremy. 

Before bed that night, Jeremy considers something about the study he’s doing (that’s what he’s calling it in his head: a study). When he drank the well water, he’d only had a sip. He put at least twenty times that amount into the lemonade. If there is an active ingredient in the water that causes hallucinations, would the quantity have an effect on the consumer?

He thinks about this for a moment longer, then turns out the light. He’s asleep within minutes. He dreams, but the dreams are normal. He’s shooting hoops in the United Center with Michael Jordan. He’s walking on a mountain of whip cream and getting warm and fuzzy feelings as he imagines a school crush, beckoning him to come to her and kiss her. But then the fantasy is broken. 

There’s screaming. It’s not coming from the dream.

Jeremy snaps awake.

It’s Meghan. She’s shrieking in her room. 

Jeremy runs down the hall. There’s more noise. Someone is growling like an animal. 

Jeremy comes to Meghan’s parents’ room first. He pushes the door open and sees Meghan’s mom on top of Meghan’s dad. She’s smothering him with a pillow. “Stop stop stop!” she says. Her eyes are closed. “Stay away from me!” 

Meghan is shrieking even louder now. 

Jeremy can’t think what to do. He has to do something but his body is momentarily frozen.  He should pull Meghan’s mom off of her dad. He has to. But Meghan is in trouble too. He has to pick. 

Meghan.

He opens her door and she’s sitting up on her bed. Her eyes are closed but her head is angled down toward the floor. “No!” she screams. “Get away from me!” And she’s up off the bed and is diving through the window—a perfect swan dive. The window shatters and Meghan goes head first into the patio, two stories below. 

Jeremy runs to the window and looks down at her lifeless body.

He’s crying now. Sobbing. He feels sick.

He goes back to Meghan’s parents room. 

Her dad’s on the bed still. He’s not moving. 

But he doesn’t see her mother. Not until it’s too late.

He hears a scream from behind him. It’s guttural—barbaric even. He turns around and sees Meghan’s mom. Her eyes are still closed. She’s holding something. A knife. 

“No!” cries Jeremy. “Wake up! It’s just a—”

The knife comes down and ends his sentence for him.

As the blood runs out from him onto the floor, he turns his head and looks under the bed. A little girl—all gray and black—is on her hands and knees. She’s smiling at him with those stone-chip teeth. 

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