FICTION

Back to Fiction

The Girl at the Well

By William Haskins

Maria sat at the edge of the abandoned well, just close enough to feel the pulse of adrenaline in her veins, the flush of fear in her cheeks. A breeze gently lifted strands of blond hair and laid them down again on her shoulders, brown against the saffron of her sun dress. Only the shriek of the blue jay stirred the silence of the meadow.

She thought of her newfound freedom and wondered how it should feel. Surely it should feel different, somehow—but she felt no different at all. Was it still too new? Perhaps, she thought, it would just take time to sink in.

As shadows gathered beneath the setting sun, her thoughts turned to Nathan. He would be at the bus station soon, just like they’d arranged, searching for her with his dark eyes. In his arms, she thought, she would feel the full embrace of freedom. This comforted her enough to smile.

Standing up and dusting herself off, she peered into the well and wondered how deep it was. The answer in her mind came back: deep enough. She listened intently for several moments, but not a sound emanated from the darkness.

“It’s done,” she whispered, and she knew—whether she felt it or not—that on this day, in this gray-fall of twilight, the chains had melted from her limbs. She turned and walked through the tall grass—out of the meadow, out of her bondage.

She was too far away to hear the final cry when it echoed from the depths of the well.