Really Short Horror Stories

The well

Since I've met Dexter, my life became a roller coaster: we were in trouble every other week, either for sneaking out of school to drink a few bottles, or for painting rude words on the school buildings, or for forging parents' signatures on important permission slips. Trust me, I'm not complaining; this life is way better than sitting in a classroom listening to the teacher drone on and on.

I really owe Dexter one; he was the one that persuaded me to leave my boring old life behind. So whenever he dared me to do something, I'd do it without hesitating. Anyway, that's the least I can do for him.

Every day after school we'd meet up together behind the school, discussing what to do next. Today was the usual routine: get out of school, walk around it, meet Dexter.

'So Tom, up to it today?' he said when he saw me, wearing the usual smirk on his face.

"Yeah,' I replied, replying his smirk.

'Listen here, there's an old well near our neighbourhood. Many people say it's haunted. Just yesterday I heard my neighbour telling her daughter about it. She said that if you look down the well at midnight and see anything........well, odd, you'd die the very next day.'

'So?' I asked him.

'I dare you to look down the well at midnight.'

I went quiet at this. When I was seven, my grandmother always told me not to look down that well. Perhaps I should refuse.....

'Scared, chicken?' taunted Dexter.

The look on his face wiped the memory of my grandmother's words clean.

'Ok, I'll do it,' I said.

Dexter smirked and said, ' See ya there, Tom.'

I arrived at the well three minutes before midnight. Dexter was there of course, looking very annoyed because of my late arrival.

'Hurry up!' he hissed, dragging me towards the well.

I took a deep breath and looked down the thing, then waited  for weird things to happen.

A few minutes passed by. Still nothing. Nothing reflected in the water, just the extraordinarily bright moonlight and the tree overhead. I let out a silent sigh of relief and pulled my head out of the well's opening.

Dexter wasn't disappointed.

'That shows I don't have a chicken for a friend,' he said, slapping my back.

I grinned. The tale of the well was just an old wives' tale. Just an old wives' tale, and nothing else.

This story doesn't look scary, but look closely. Read carefully.

Notice anything?