The Grin of the Well
A Story About the Price of Knowing Exactly What You Want The first thing Aarav noticed was that the dead man was smiling. The second thing he noticed was the heavy gold coin clamped between his grey, shrivelled teeth. Aarav stood frozen at the edge of Blackwater Woods, his flash-light beam trembling over the mud. Behind him, the village lights flickered weakly through the dense trees. Ahead, the ancient stone well waited beneath the sprawling, twisted roots of a banyan tree, its mouth open like something hungry. Everyone in the village knew the rule: Never go near Blackwater Well after sunset. They said a spirit lived in the stones. A ghost who asked questions, and who rewarded those bold enough to answer. Aarav had always thought it was just a story used to scare children until his father was laid off, his mother started skipping meals, and the hospital said they would stop his little sister's treatments if they didn't receive payment by Friday. Desperation had a way of...