By Yuri Shymanovsky.
Translated from Russian by Glen Evans.


The Well at the Edge of the Forest

***
It's impossible to imagine a more terrifying story.
Even now, many years later, my hair stands on end when
I recall these events.
And all the time in my mind I see a tarantula, a
horrible wolf spider; a real monster that is afraid of
light and spends most of its life in a deep hole. It
only comes out at night, hunting around, soundlessly
and agilely stalking its victim.
***
After my graduation from college I found a job in a
very small town called Glades.
You think that if you graduated from college as an
engineer you will have your life made for you:
high-salary job, good career, international symposiums
etc? Well, life is life.
I found a position here, in the smallest country town
that I could imagine.
A company of local young people, always drunk and
intoxicated, did not attract me, and I quickly got
close with an agriculturist, who lived in the same
town and was named Ivan Il'ich. He was a man of a
colossal erudition, a true aristocrat that's rare to
meet in our filthy present time.
His home library was as big as a famous professor
could have. His thoughts and opinions were always so
deep and wise that no doubt he had read all these
books. Besides Ivan Il'ich was an exquisite music
amateur, and he played Beethoven sonatas pretty well,
using the old disheveled piano in the local club.
He always called me Vasily Andreevich, despite the
fact that he was older than fifty, and I could have
been his son.
During the long winter evenings, we would sit
together, drinking hooch and talking. We had endless
polite conversations. He and I, two persons
represented the local intellectual elite. Well, in the
town was a doctor, a lady about forty, but she always
hung out with the young farmers.
I clearly remember that rainy Saturday evening in
July.
I set some mousetraps and was about to fall onto the
couch with a book when I heard a knock at my door.
It was my friend, the agriculturist.
"May I come in? Oh, sorry my boots!" Looking at his
shoes I realized that Ivan Il'ich was very distracted.
Usually he washed his boots before coming in but
today, somehow, he forgot to do it.
"Big deal! It's just dirt." I said. "Look at mine!
It's real pig dung. Yep. I'm afraid it'll fall off in
August, no earlier. Why aren't you at home with this
weather? I have just made a jar of Raisin Jack with
your recipe. It's an exclusively tasteful beverage.
I'm simply amazed."
"I want to consult with you, Vasily Andreevich," he
said, paying no heed to my compliment. "It's a serious
matter, I'm afraid. May I sit down? Were you at the
glade on the edge of the forest today?"
Of course I was!
What had happened this morning shocked the citizens.
Once each week some Mafia guys had their meetings
using our town as a place for the encounter. They were
gathering on the big glade at the edge of the forest.
From the early morning hours Volvos and Jaguars,
Mercedeses and Rolls-Royces rolled along our streets.
At noon the glade looked like a parking lot, stuffed
with these luxury vehicles.
We, ordinary people, did not know their affairs. These
"boys" talked, crowded into groups, were going from
car to car.
Our Sheriff, however, was taking that easily. It was
no crime, no hooligan actions.
So why not?
But today a horrible accident took place. A "big man",
a boss, or whatever they call their leaders, a
godfather died a horrible death.
On the glade, at the border of the forest, there was
an old abandoned well. Nobody knows who built it and
when. It was about twenty meters deep, and there was
no water inside.
So, that boss sat on the board of the well, there was
no tall cobblestone fence around the shaft. Still
talking, the man shoved his hand into his pocket to
get his lighter. He leaned slightly back, lost his
balance and fell down into the well.
One hour later police, ambulance and a special rescue
group arrived here and all the people of the town as
well.
One of the rescuers with a gas-mask went down into the
well, and after he had talked for a long time with the
authorities. They announced that the man had died, but
they couldn't retrieve his body and then they left.
This was what had happened today.
"You know, Vasily Andreevich," said the agriculturist.
"I did see, how he fell. It's a very dirty matter."
"Did someone push him?" I shrugged my shoulders.
"Among such guys it's a usual deed. Why are you
worrying? One less bastard."
"No, not PUSH. It's worse... Well, yes, splash me some
hooch, please. Thanks. You are new here, maybe you
don't know, but there are some scary stories about
this well. People say, perhaps some kind of devil
lives down there. He comes out at night..."
"C'mon, Ivan Il'ich!"
"I know, what you are going to say. But it's not empty
talk!"
I thought that I did make a great beverage. My
interlocutor had drunk just a half a glass, and
already is uttering drunken speeches.
"You know, Ivan Il'ich," I tried to change the
subject. "Your idea about ion rectification..."
"Let me finish!" interrupted the agriculturist. "I
didn't get to the point. Well, could you drop me some
more of the hooch? Thank you. Do you know the
story about the cow of an old local man named
Stephan?"
I wanted to smile but I couldn't as the look of my
interlocutor became perplexed and full of fear.
"There was an old local man named Stephan, a veteran,
he died last year," continued Ivan Il'ich. "He had
cattle, and one of his cows had a habit of getting
away from the herd. Usually a few days later someone
returned her to her owner, or she made her way back
herself.
"One evening the cow got lost for the zillionth time,
but in the middle of the night the whole town was
awoken with a horrible howl. It was a dreadful
bellow." My friend's face became greenish pale. "Next
morning we found the cow's remains next to the well.
The whole glade was covered in blood, and on the grass
there were bovine bones all around. That was all. I
saw it with my own eyes. And do you know, what I
thought?"
"What?" I asked whispering.
"The cow had been eaten up! Yes! Eaten to the last
bone, like a chicken! There was blood, blood and bones
all around the well. Nobody ever figured out what
happened that damned night."
"Well, your story sounds very serious," I said
thoughtfully. "I did overhear talk about this."
"Believe me, it's just a prelude. Now, the point. This
morning I went to the forest looking for some herbs
for my kidneys. I returned through the glade. And here
was the festival of those crooks. I can't stand these
bastards. I stood still in the bushes, thinking should
I go through the glade or skirt around? The well was
about ten steps in front of me.
"I saw this man sitting on the edge of the fence of
the well with his back to me. A few men were standing
next to him, listening. The man shoved his hand into
his pocket, and... The witnesses saw how he fell down.
But I saw from behind! He was not pushed, but pulled
into the well!"
"My God!" I grew cold.
"You know, the bushes partly blocked the view, but it
was something moving very fast. Something gray or
brownish. You can imagine how he screamed! The turmoil
started, and I went home on the quiet. And I wanted to
consult with you. Should I report it?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Everything you told me is so
strange, I'm afraid no one will believe you. Besides,
the rescuer went down and didn't find any demon."
"Oh yeah? Why was no body taken out then? I really
want to know what is in there. After the incident with
the cow, I was thinking about going down to explore.
I'm curious. But I don't have any equipment, and
honestly, I am afraid. Especially now. But it is an
opportunity to cast some light on this dark subject.
What if I report it to the Sheriff? Maybe some expert
will deal with that well. Because I'm afraid this
nightmare will continue. Someone else could be
killed."
"You're probably right. You should report it. Whether
they believe you or not - your conscience will be
clean."
"Then I've made up my mind. Glad that you are thinking
the same way. I hesitated. I thought, maybe I'm
stupid. Okay, pour me some Raisin Jack, for the
finish, and I'll go. It's pretty late... Thanks."
Ivan Il'ich left, and I tossed the book on the floor,
and went to bed.
Falling asleep, I was trying to summarize all that I
heard today. My mind was clouded but some foggy
opinion flashed into my head. I thought I already knew
the answer, or I have seen something like that� But I
could not realize what an idea it was, as I fell
asleep.

(Part 1 of 2. To be continued)
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