Thank you to my new patrons, Dominique Miranda, and to Leib.

If you'd like to also support the podcast and receive access to exclusive content and

bonus episodes, check out the Patreon link in the description below.

Now back to the story.

It must have been the whimpering that woke me up.

I had heard that same whimpering as a child over many nights.

It was the sound of our family dog, Gunner, wanting to be let into a room or let outside

to do his business.

But as the fuzzy unreality of my dream gave way to the chill wind and stark actuality of

real life, I realized that the whimpering wasn't quite the same.

It was more urgent.

It was a whimpering rooted in pain.

I looked around in confusion, wondering what I was doing standing outside by the old well.

The whimpering was coming from down there, down in the dark.

A sudden realization gripped me.

I shook as I moved to the edge of the well.

I looked down, but couldn't see anything.

It was too dark.

But I knew.

I knew what I'd done.

Just a week earlier, my father had woken me at the back door, Gunner in my arms.

Where do you think you're going with the dog, son?

...