A dead woman sleeps in the well near my hometown.

We woke her up, written by a certain emergency, 1-2-2.

There's an old well located in the middle of the woods that border Penville.

It's made up of crumbling, gray stone, partially hidden by moss, wide-ringing the ground that

threatens to swallow the unwary.

According to local legend, the well is haunted.

Penville was founded in the late 1800s by the Finbys, an English family that came to America

to build a prosperous community.

The family daughter pretended to be religious, but secretly worshipped the devil.

One night, she made a pact with the demon.

In exchange for eternal beauty and youth, she agreed to murder nine children.

Six kids in this town were butchered like hogs, and the remains scattered throughout

the woods.

Before she could complete the ninth murder, the townspeople discovered that she was the

one responsible for their children's deaths.

They dragged her out of her home, tore out her eyes, and threw her into the well to die.

She treaded the water for nearly half an hour, and before a dying of blood loss, she promised

them that she would finish her bargain eventually.

She found the well, entirely by accident.

It was a cloudless summer day.

One we should have spent lounging by the public swimming pool and eating popsicles.

Instead, Quentin and I followed James deeper into the woods.

...