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The Well

He woke with a start, to a throbbing headache, in a damp, murky, tight area. ‘Fuck. How did I end up here.’ He thought to himself. His head ached along with the rest of his body. All of his muscles were sore, and his entire body felt like it was seconds from crumbling atop his weight. He reached out toward the wall, and felt the old, slimy bricks that lined the buttom of this well. He swore to himself, and banged his hand against the wall. ‘How did I get here?’ was the only thin going through his mind.

“Okay, this is all just a bad dream. I’ll sit down and gto sleep, and wake up, back home, in my own bed.” And so he did. And when he awokem nothing had changed, aside from the settleing in of a panic attack.

It was all coming back to him. The bar. He was at the bar. But then what?  He remember walking out with this cheap little lady, and then nothing. ‘Shit. Tshe drugged me.’ He thought to himself, as he checked all of his belongings that were suddenly missing from his person. He tried to remember where he had been yesterday; what he had done, and who he had been with. It all escaped him, and that was even more terrifying than being inside this god damn well. He decided at that moment he had to escape. Rescue wasn’t coming, he reasoned. It would be days before anyone realized he was missing; he worked from home, and lived alone.

He decided try the grate first. Maybe one of the bars was loose, and he could shimmy inside of it to safety. He pried at the bar, to no avail, so he resorted to kicking at it with all his might. He heard an unfamiliar crunch, as he snapped his foot in several different places from the force of the impact. He screamed in agony, and fell into the dirty water beneath him. 

After a few hours, he had come up with another plan. He would climb out. The sky didn’t seem so far away, here below the Earth. He found a foot hold, and a hand hold, and began working his way up the well. Thoughts of sucsess rushed through his head, and his pain seemed to be left behind inside the well. He reached for the next handhold, and it crumbled, sending him spirialling downwards. He bashed his head against the side of the well, and landed firmly upon his back, and all the pain he left in the well seemed to breed within him as he blacked out.

When the man came to, it was dark out, and he swore to himself from the pain. The water seemed a bit higher now, and filled with refuse. He wouldn’t be drinking that, for sure. Suddenly, from atop the well a light shone, and he was overwhelmed with joy. He shouted until he was hoarse, but the light grew more and more dim. His hopes were leaving him, and he knew he would die here. He scratched the back of is head and winced in pain, as he felt a warm liquid still streaming down his neck. Blood. He swore to himself once again, before he passed out, feeling more and more cold. 

He woke up again a few hours later, head throbbing, foot stinging, and life slowly draining out of him. Quickly, he realized that the water level was up his chest, He swore to himself again, and stood up, as the water rushed faster through the grate, and the fetid water rose around him. It was now or never; He had to climb out of this well. He began climbing once again, and made it to the top this time, before slipping, and hitting his head once again, and falling into the water below.