Short Story: The Well

At the bottom of a well, I was scared. It was dark. I cried out for help. I needed someone to pull me out of this prison of woe, a cavern of despair. A hand reached out, like a righteous savior, who would always be there for me. It was you.

When we were dating, I always told her about that recurring dream I had. I knew it was her hand in the dream. She was perfect, like a sunrise in human form. Soon I found she had quite the influence over my personality. I became a generally happier, and even kinder person. Like I was slowly trying to copy her just to be that much closer to her. I wanted to understand what made her presence so uplifting, her laughter so contagious, and her outlook, ever so optimistic. 

“I think it would be better to just be friends.”

The text message that locked into my memory. The message I didn’t open in hopes it would go away. After that day, the dream stopped coming to me. Instead I was living it, but this time there was no one reaching out.

I’d still see her, through our mutual friends or just by happenstance. I never lost the fascination with her personality. How one person could embody so much positivity and good in the world. She started seeing a friend of mine.

Me and him were different in every way. He was everything I didn’t know I wanted to be. He embodied who I wanted to become for her. He didn’t have to assimilate her personality or quirks to be closer to her. He, in many ways, was her. Meanwhile, after we broke up I swiftly regressed into my worst qualities and tendencies.

After I knew they started dating, I started to do little vindictive things to him, for seemingly no reason. As if I was enacting vengeance on a long time enemy. This nemesis dynamic was very one sided, as he was far too nice and forgiving to see me as someone who’d be so spiteful.

I thought holding this vendetta would help me heal and get over her, but it sent me down a path of misguided hatred and unrelenting despair. I’d open the door to an empty house and realize it was all for nothing, only to wake up the next morning and do it again.

One day I got home, and instead of going to bed I decided to take a night out to my favorite bar. After working up the energy it took to put my coat on and leave the house, I walked up to the bar, but stopped. I looked into the window. There they were. I completely forgot that he and I both shared the same favorite bar, I had forgotten a lot about our friendship by then. I saw them. They were both so happy. I saw how she looked at him, and I recognized it as the same look she once gave me. I became overwhelmed with jealousy and embarrassment, but then I looked into his eyes. I saw someone, who was also at the bottom of a well, and he was looking at the hand that was reaching out to save him.

I walked home, knowing they deserved to have their time together in peace. I went to sleep, and the dream came back. This time I waited for a hand, but no one reached out. I was more scared and alone than ever. But, instead of laying there, I climbed out and saw a beautiful sunrise.


Managed to post a second one without having to wait a month! Yay! This one is pretty personal. I’ll just say that I wrote this short story to show to a younger version of myself. Hopefully you can get something out of this too. Thanks for reading. See you soon.