theonecalledwander (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theonecalledwander) wrote2013-02-08 07:27 pm
theonecalledwander) wrote2013-02-08 07:27 pm
Entry tags:
Ten
The other reason I didn’t mind relinquishing my cane is that it wouldn’t do to pull out the tool of my trade in broad daylight, at least not at this juncture. That kind of move has its uses, but there might be something a little too provocative about a stranger in a black cape waving a wand over a well that the locals had to figure was cursed or haunted. It would be a bit on the nose.
There aren’t many people out and about, but it only takes one person to raise a cry, and one cry to raise a mob.
But I can’t resist getting a look all the same. If it is the subject of well-traveled rumor, there’s nothing suspicious about a traveler ambling up for a reconnoiter, is there?
It’s a well after the well-established fashion, with a low wall circling it and a stout wooden beam from which hangs a winch and a bucket, though there’s also a cast-iron pump that seems serviceable. The well is capped with a wooden cover with one section open for the bucket.
The cross beam and uprights are old and in good repair, as is the stonework. The cover is quite a bit new, though the hardware is old. It’s been replaced recently.
The obvious question that I didn’t ask Bel is who fell in the well. I didn’t ask, just in case the answer was no one. But something must have changed, and chances are it has something to do with the new cover.
I pump some water into an old wooden bucket that’s been left here. The pump screeches like condemned soul, but the water comes out cool and clear. I can smell nothing foul. There is no crackle of wizardry. For some reason, though, the sight of the water standing in the bucket fills the space in my chest with dread. No grim portents greet me as I peer into the depths… all I can see is the bottom of an ordinary bucket, viewed through apparently unremarkable water.
I kick the bucket over and feel a profound sense of relief as the water soaks into the ground. Bel is right. There is something unwholesome here.
I don’t like to admit it in front of you of all people, dear one, but at this moment I feel as though something important has just been staring me in the face, though I could not say what it is.
There aren’t many people out and about, but it only takes one person to raise a cry, and one cry to raise a mob.
But I can’t resist getting a look all the same. If it is the subject of well-traveled rumor, there’s nothing suspicious about a traveler ambling up for a reconnoiter, is there?
It’s a well after the well-established fashion, with a low wall circling it and a stout wooden beam from which hangs a winch and a bucket, though there’s also a cast-iron pump that seems serviceable. The well is capped with a wooden cover with one section open for the bucket.
The cross beam and uprights are old and in good repair, as is the stonework. The cover is quite a bit new, though the hardware is old. It’s been replaced recently.
The obvious question that I didn’t ask Bel is who fell in the well. I didn’t ask, just in case the answer was no one. But something must have changed, and chances are it has something to do with the new cover.
I pump some water into an old wooden bucket that’s been left here. The pump screeches like condemned soul, but the water comes out cool and clear. I can smell nothing foul. There is no crackle of wizardry. For some reason, though, the sight of the water standing in the bucket fills the space in my chest with dread. No grim portents greet me as I peer into the depths… all I can see is the bottom of an ordinary bucket, viewed through apparently unremarkable water.
I kick the bucket over and feel a profound sense of relief as the water soaks into the ground. Bel is right. There is something unwholesome here.
I don’t like to admit it in front of you of all people, dear one, but at this moment I feel as though something important has just been staring me in the face, though I could not say what it is.