The Witch’s Well

Photograph by Kendra Maurer. From Shale Hollow Metropark in Lewis Center

In the house I grew up in, there was an open sump pit in a corner in the basement. The laundry water drained into it, so it smelled good and sometimes had a soft foam from the soap my mom used. 

But my parents were constantly cautioning me to stay away because it was dangerous. To them, it was obvious: there’s a hole in the floor in the corner, and if you trip you could hurt yourself. But I never asked why, and they never told me. 

Besides.

I knew why.

I knew that there was a witch in there.

I’d lay beside it for hours, gazing into that portal...into a room on the other side. There was a window in her house; I could tell from the way the witch’s room was lit.  And there was the dark reflection of a table beside it. I waited for her to look. I wondered if she even knew that if she just peered in that she’d see me looking back. 

Then I wondered--what would I do if she did? I realized that maybe I didn't want her to look back because then she would know I was there, and who I was and what I looked like and what my scream of terror would sound like and WHAT IF SHE LIKED THAT SOUND? 

So I stopped visiting the witch for a while.

Until my dad died. I went back to that well, and asked her questions about life and death. About God and heaven and all the Big Confusing things I couldn’t process…

And then I asked her for my dad back. I asked her to tell him I missed him, or at least to tell him hi.

She still never showed. Not even a peek. And I gave up on her.

Years passed, and I had pushed her so far out of my memories

I had forgotten about her and her traitorous act of silence.

I remembered her when I built my own house, and I looked in the sump pit and saw my own reflection looking back at me. I laughed at myself and I forgave her for never answering me. I came to a place of peace with that witch in the well.

And now, when I’m in the woods on walks with my children and I happen upon strange little puddles,

I peer inside and talk to her. I tell her to say hi to my dad, and I let her know I’m ok.