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298 Words
In the quiet village of Avenbrook, at the edge of the moors, there was a well said to grant wishes. But the villagers rarely approached it. The legend warned that the well demanded something in return, and its whispers could never be unheard.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a young woman named Mara approached the well. She carried a bundle of dried flowers, her hands trembling. Her little brother, Sam, had fallen ill with a fever no healer could cure, and Mara had no other choice.
She knelt before the ancient stone well, its edges covered in moss, and cast the flowers into its dark depths. “Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Heal my brother.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then a voice, low and soft as the wind, rose from the well. “What will you offer me in return, Mara of Avenbrook?”
Mara froze. “Anything,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’ll give anything.”
The whisper came again, calm but cold. “Your voice for his life. Do you accept?”
Mara hesitated, tears streaming down her face. Singing was her one joy, the thing that brought light to her darkest days. But the image of Sam, pale and fragile, burned in her mind. “Yes,” she said finally. “I accept.”
The moment she spoke, a sharp wind rose from the well, pulling her words from her throat. She gasped, clutching her neck, but no sound came out. The wind faded, leaving only an eerie stillness.
When Mara returned home, she found Sam sitting up in bed, his cheeks flushed with health, his fever gone. He smiled at her, confused but happy. Mara wept silently, holding him close.
- Writer
