Creeeeaaak. Creeeeaaak. Creeee—swoosh, splash!

This particular sequence of noises has disrupted countless nights of mine. And tonight, it seems, is no different.

I squint at the dim blur behind the window. Indeed, yet another interloper is hunching over my well. Oh, how certain I was that with winter’s arrival, the village’s thirst would be satisfied at last. How ready I was to be free of this nightly burden.

Begrudgingly, I leave the comfort of my bed, throw on a coat and step outside, where the air is cold and uncaring, and the dry ground is dark like pitch. On closer inspection, I find, to my surprise, that the silhouette over the well belongs to you. You, with whom I thought I would never exchange another word.

You notice me, and a moment later your eyes fill with dismay. “Not stealing! I’m not stealing! Look, I left a pouch on the—”

“No, you don’t get it. You’re doing it wrong.” I grab the rope and start pulling it downwards.

“Haven’t talked in a while, have we?”

“Indeed,” I mutter.

“Sorry I woke you up, I’ve just been thirsty all night.”

“S’okay. The well has brought me worse wake-up calls.”

Soon as the bucket emerges from the well, you snatch it and go gulping away.

“Much, much worse.”

You wipe your lips. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who gets thirsty after dark. I’ve had much less privacy recently, what with the drought and all.”

“Well, why not set up shop at the marketplace, then?”

I throw a glance at the rim of the valley, where the twisted trail on the mountainside merges with the silhouette of the village. “Yeesh. I don’t wanna be a vendor.”

“You’re pretty much already a vendor. People come down here and pay you. If you sold your water up there, you wouldn’t be bothered so much.”

“And who’s gonna keep the shop?”

“I can.”

I squint at you. You’re still blurry against the moonlight, but I can make out your face. It has a kind look. “You would?”

“Sure. If you let me keep, uh, a quarter.”

“Hmm.” I lower the bucket back into the well and take the pouch. “I’ll consider it.”

 

I think I’ve made a mistake.

Each climb to the village is more punishing than the last. The water weighs me down very much, and the harsh sun doesn’t help either. The sweat pours along my body and sticks the clothes to my skin. No one comes to assist me—it is my job and mine only, after all. I agreed to do this, didn’t I?

Eventually, the dirt path becomes sandy and softer to tramp on, and the sound of groggy shopkeepers ringing their bells surrounds me. A few passersby bid me good morning. They seem thankful, though I can’t tell if it’s for me or for the fact that they’re not me. I trudge into our wooden shop and at long last drop the buckets onto the floor, where they land with a splash. Your gentle smile, which is contagious like a virus, almost makes all that effort worth it. Almost. It’s only a blink of happiness. When it disappears, I know how the rest of the day will go. I know that I’ll pass by the teahouse and sit in the shade for an hour. I know that when the sun sets, I’ll grab the takings you put aside and go back home. I know that tomorrow morning, I’ll have to bring the water again. And I know that you’ll then gently smile, and for just that one beautiful, insignificant moment before it fades, I’ll be happy.

“Hey, bud.”

“Hmm?”

“I just gotta say, I’m damn thankful for the work you been doing.” The brewer refills his rusty kettle and tosses it back on the stove. “It’s been a hassle fetching the water meself all the time.”

“Why, you’re welcome,” I reply.

“You’re doing the Lord’s work.”

The setting sun showers the teahouse and its many tables with golden light, reflected on the scrubbed glasses that are strewn across the counter. It’s been more crowded than usual here, though not to the point that it bothers me. The tavern will always draw more people. I’d go there too, if not for the constant, drunken hubbub around which I have trouble unwinding. There’s a mellower mood here. But the tea has gone so bitter, I can barely enjoy it anymore. “Hey, why’s the sugar gotten so pricey?” I ask the brewer.

“It’s the supplier. Heard the drought hit his canes bad, so he’s, eh, growing his costs instead. Can’t do nothing about it, sadly.”

I have to wonder how long this’ll go on. Not just the drought, but everything that’s ever hindered my happiness. There’s a giant wall in front of me, and behind every brick I pull out, sit a dozen more.

“Hey, tell you what,” the brewer says suddenly, “the beekeeper hasn’t upped her prices too much. Why don’t you go buy from her instead?”

“Where would I find her?” I ask.

“She goes around. Not at these hours, though. You’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning.”

 

Another day passes, and an especially painful morning greets me thereafter. I stumble into our shop, the water swinging at my sides. “My shoulders,” I whimper. “I can’t feel my shoulders.”

You’re quick to relieve me of both buckets, but I don’t feel any lighter. There’s still an immense burden on me.

“Sit down.”

I do as you say, and you start kneading my back. Very gradually, the burden ebbs, and in its place, the feeling slowly returns.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

“You’re not usually this tired.”

“I had a rough night. It’s gotten windier, have you noticed?”

“Yeah. I think there’s a storm coming.”

“Wonderful.” I sigh. “So much for setting up shop here. It hasn’t gotten much quieter around my place. Only thing that’s changed is my morning routine, for the worse.”

You get up and pour the water into a barrel. “It’s not too late to close up if you regret this.”

“No, it is. People want this shop. No one likes going all the way to my well. It’s the least I can do. I just… I wish there was something that could solve all my problems without causing new ones, you know? Or at least alleviate them. I feel so tired all the time, and I’m not sure if I’m making the right decisions, and I don’t…”

“Hey. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.”

That smile of yours climbs back onto your face, and it radiates such warmth and joy—I can all but feel it from here. I chuckle.

“You know, it’s nice having you around,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been looking to spend more time with you. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I really do enjoy your presence, and I think what you’re—what we’re doing with this shop is wonderful, and…”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just, uh, trailed off, is—”

“Hey!”

I sit bolt upright. The voice startled you, too. A stocky, grizzled woman stands across the counter, wearing a yellowed jacket and an impatient expression. “C’mon, I haven’t ages left. I got bees to water.”

You grab a bucket and fill it from the barrel. I catch another glance of your face—the smile’s gone. Back to chasing happiness, I suppose.

“Hey, wait—are you the beekeeper?” I say.

The old woman throws me a glare. “Yes, that’d be me.”

“Could I, uh, buy some honey?”

The beekeeper takes the water from you and squints her eyes. “Hmm. Yes, I think you’d better. Come with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be back later,” I say, and you nod.

The beekeeper has an odd gait. The bucket swings under her brawny arm, always threatening to spill over but not quite there. I walk somewhat tentatively next to her along the footpath.

“So,” she begins, “you’re looking for a solution to everything?”

“Er… yeah?”

“You’re not gonna find it, you know. Not in this life.”

“I gathered.”

“Doubt it. You haven’t embraced the chaos yet. No one has.”

“What chaos?”

“Wango poarl biomw.”

“What?”

“Exactly.”

The beekeeper takes a sharp turn to the right and leads me into her store, which stands sandwiched between a flower stand and the needlework shop. The air inside feels quite a bit drier, and small glass jars sit on wooden shelves that line the walls. What sticks out to me is the carpet: there’s a peculiar design sewn on it—a pointy-topped regular hexagon, upon whose sides (clockwise from the top-right) appear the words: AGMSY, BHNTZ, CIOU, DJPV, EKQW, and FLRX.

“You’ll remember that.”

I look up from the carpet. The beekeeper stands behind her desk, wearing a snarky smile.

“How much is a jar?”

“I think this would suit you better.” She stoops beneath the table and withdraws a small chunk of honeycomb. “Free of charge.”

I lean over to examine the many hexagons that comprise the honeycomb and glance back at the carpet design. Curious.

“You won’t find the solution in the comb. It is merely a frame of reference for the code.”

“What code?”

“Oh, it’s rather simple: each letter points to the position of the next; the answer turns clear at the very end.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Don’t fret. You’ll understand very soon, and when you do, come back here with the answer—Hog thy Eden.”

BHNTZ. CIOU. AGMSY. BHNTZ. BHNTZ. AGMSY. EKQW. DJPV. EKQW. BHNTZ. Ugh.

“So, what’s the deal with that honeycomb?”

I look up at the brewer. He’s been scrubbing the same cup for minutes on end, hasn’t he? “Hmm? Oh, it’s a, uh, puzzle. I think.”

“Must be a hard one. You haven’t taken your eyes off it in hours.”

“Hours?” I glance behind my shoulder. The teahouse is empty, and the street has already gone dark; by now, the old lantern bearer should be going about lighting the lamp posts. “Yeesh. Have I paid the tab?”

“Long ago. Fifteen for three sweet teas. Woulda been a lot more if not for that—”

“Honey!”

“Yes, the honey.”

“No, that’s it! That’s the answer! It’s honey! Look!” I point at the comb. “H takes you here; O to here; G over there; T there; H there; Y over here; E back here; D back to this one; then E overwrites H and takes you back to T, which N overwrites. H-O-N-E-Y!”

“Huh.”

“I ought to go. Thanks for the tea!”

I set off to the beekeeper’s. The wind has gotten quite a bit stronger; at times, I feel that it’s actually pushing me around. I follow the footpath, or at least the parts of it that I can dimly see, until I spot the flower and knitting shops again. The beekeeper’s shop is dark and vacant, but I know that the solution, the puzzle’s reward, must lie somewhere here.

Is that it, on her desk? No, it’s a… a handkerchief. And there’s a drawing of a well on it and some words. “McIan djao pergethe.”

Oh. Great. Another one.

 

It’s gotten windier. A lot windier. There’s no doubt about it.

I tried to sleep through the storm, but the blinds keep creaking and rustling, and I couldn’t stand it. As if that’s not enough, the wind has been rushing into the house through some hole I’ve been unable to find. Eventually, I took to the honeycomb and began an attempt at cracking the handkerchief.

McIan djao pergethe.

It’s a much longer code than the last, which makes deciphering it harder (though hopefully more rewarding). I have to hold the honeycomb down, lest the wind will carry it away.

McIan djao pergethe.

The first two words seem to spell out M-I-N-D. The process is very slow, though. The wind doesn’t help, either. It’s distracting and freezing. Urgh, what does it mean?!

McIan djao pergethe.

AGMSY. CIOU. CIOU. AGMSY. BHNTZ. DJPV. DJPV. AGMSY. CIOU. Yeah, that’s M-I-N-D right there. DJPV. EKQW. AGMSY. EKQW. BHNTZ. No, wait, there’s an R. I missed the R. Uh, where does it… was this from… no, no, I need to start over. Shit.

McIan djao pergethe.

Okay, the first two just spell out “MIND.” I’ll just do the last one and join them. So that’s… DJPV. EKQW. FLRX. AGMSY. EKQW. BHNTZ. BHNTZ. EKQW. That’s… T-H-E. Just T-H-E.

McIan djao pergethe.

“MIND THE”? “THE MIND”? Huh?!

No, I must’ve missed something, I must’ve—oh, fuck!

The wind took hold of the comb, honey and all, and smeared it all over my chest. Shit. I need a shower.

I stagger outside and attempt to make a bee-line for the well, though with the heavy wind rocking me back and forth, I can only manage a drunk-line. At the well, I reach for the rope. Gah, it’s so far! Why is it so far? I lean over and feel it slide by my fingers. It’s swinging. I just need the bucket. It’s so cold. I lean over a bit more—

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh. I’m here now.

Okay.

 

Hmm.

 

It’s quiet down here.

 

Heh. Almost feels… warm. In some way.

 

Mmm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay.

The sky’s slowly getting brighter. I must’ve been here for quite a while. Did I fall asleep? It’s hard to tell, honestly.

I grab onto the wall and start climbing up. A very tranquil dawn greets me at the top, with early birds chirping away and pastels lining the sky. The sun peeks over the edge of the valley, coating each and every blade of grass with an amber glow. The storm has passed, and in its wake, a beautiful serene morning appeared.

I pull the bucket down and draw a load of water. I find myself smiling earnestly, for no particular reason, as I begin the climb to the village. I’m happy. The buckets don’t even feel that heavy.

When I step inside the shop, I’m surprised to see you already there. I didn’t know you arrive so early.

You’re frowning. Your arms are crossed. Hmm.

“You didn’t come back.”

“What?”

“When the beekeeper came, you said you’d come back later.”

“Oh.” I pause, then drop the buckets to the floor. “You’re welcome.”

“You know, it gets kind of lonely here when you’re not around. It’s just me. I just sit here for a while, waiting for someone to come around. I’d really appreciate it if you were… your clothes are wet.”

I look down at myself. “Uh, yes.”

“Why?”

The thought of the cool, quiet, dim interior of the well fills me with a curious kind of pleasure. It felt warm down there—as if the darkness down there cocooned me, protected me from the outside world. I wonder if those waters are still so calm, and if they await my—

“Are you even listening to me?!”

“What? Oh, sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“You’ve been so distant all the time. You keep ignoring me when I talk to you, and you always go straight to that teahouse in the morning… and sometimes it feels like you’re doing it on purpose.”

I look elsewhere. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth, and I can’t get it out.

“Please, just be honest with me. Tell me if you hate me. Tell me something. Just say something. Talk to me. Please.”

Anywhere but here. I’d like to be anywhere but here.

 

I’m in the house. It’s late and I can’t sleep. Must be that new code that’s bugging my mind. The beekeeper gave me a new one—said the handkerchief was “irrelevant now” or something. I haven’t tried the new one yet.

I sometimes wonder if I have to do these codes. I don’t think I do, but I feel incomplete knowing that the answers are out there, and that only I can uncover them. Just another responsibility.

I take the honeycomb to the well. It’s so damp and peaceful down here, and it feels like nothing can hurt me. The code is not a responsibility anymore—it’s just a puzzle, a piece of entertainment.

Jhaos neshi phah. That’s the new code. Hmm.

I drop the comb and find it floating on the water. How droll.

 

As winter dissipates and the hot days of spring take over, I spend more and more of my time in the well. It has come to be less of a distraction from my hardships and more of an abode. It erases my need for baths and showers, of course.

I don’t mind the grime. The water’s no purer through the bucket, so I know it’s okay. Better, even. Who knows what that rusty metal does to the water?

Each time I go down there, the sheer quietude surprises me again. It’s unbelievable. Here, have a listen:

 

 

 

 

Wonderful, isn’t it?

Maybe you won’t understand. I live a different life in the well. I become a different person. Sometimes I wonder which of these two versions is the real me.

Either way, in-well me is certainly better at solving those honeycomb puzzles. Out-well me retrieves them from the beekeeper and returns to her with in-well me’s solutions. I’d call it cooperation, but it’s about the only thing out-well me does for in-well me. I don’t like out-well me very much. Out-well me is boring and grumpy.

In-well me likes to go out on marvelous adventures. I explore the infinite cosmos of the well. On the surface, it seems merely like a snapshot of what could be, but that’s an illusion. It’s everything. The well is bigger on the inside. It contains everything outside it and so much more.

I heard your voice one time. You were in the other world, calling my name. You said you were worried about me, or something like that. I can’t remember. You peeked down the well, but you didn’t see me. How could you? Then you left, and I was a bit disappointed. I think I was hoping that you’d see me. You’d ask me why I was there, and I’d tell you all about this world. Maybe you’d join, and the two of us would sit in the well and explore the facets of reality together.

No matter. The well is just as wonderful without your presence. Without mine, either. It’s just immaculate in every respect, to a degree that our corporeal existences simply can’t hold a candle to.

 

“I need to talk to you.”

””

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been a lot quieter recently. I looked for you yesterday. I asked everyone if they saw you. It’s like you just vanished.”

“,..,,;;:,;.:”

“I know something’s going on. I’m not scared. I’m not angry. I just want you to tell me.”

”!!!!!!????????”

“Please, please, just tell me… I-I miss your… your…”

You start crying. You break up and you start crying in your shop. You keep crying. People look over the counter. Everyone’s looking at us. They’re looking at you, and you’re crying. You’re crying in front of me, and everyone is staring at me. I want to throw up.

Four buckets. Double the daily quota. I won’t need to come here tomorrow. All is well. Now I just need to pass the storm in the other place. I don’t have to worry about you here. There’s nothing to worry about here! I’m fine. I feel wonderful.

“Hmm. You’ve gotten very good. Would you like another one?”

“Emzince toymlaind edllcoo.”

“…Excuse me?”

I smile at the beekeeper. “I figured out how to make them. They’re quite lovely. Sometimes I think in honeycomb. It makes more sense. I can express myself better.”

“No. No, no, no, I’m sorry, this isn’t right. I can’t do this to you anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter—alizaojm laoiva osermbica boyedordet.”

She looks disgusted. “Get out of my shop.”

You come back to my house, and call my name again. You look down the well. You see me. You laugh. You ask me why I’m down here. I say “NLYKK JTAQEPSE VCHHIOYI OMU ARZNCLZU AUNE” You ask if you can join me I SHAKE MY HEAD I SHAKE MY HEAD I SHAKE MY HEAD I SHAKE MY HEAD

you’re hot. you’re heating the water. the water is evaporating. what are you doing.

“Tmgese jaevel ppbnuel puoemhoip this sxhazoev” you say. you’re ruining it. uou’re ruining the only thing that was mine. Please please pleease go away. Please go away. you undress yourself. you undress me. I hate this. I throw up.you tell me how important this is to you. you tell me all your darkest secrets and hopes and dreams and everything you don’t want to become. I scream and i kick and thrash and cry, but you Don’t get it.

I see you in your shop the next day. you attempt to smile. I don’t care. The smile is meaningless. I’ve better things to appreciate.

“Why? Why? Why whhy whhyhyhy whyhwhwhwhwywhwhw hwhHwHWHWHW YWHYWHW HWHACACAASGAOAOAOAUAOAIIJUAYACPIAYAIIAWVPAYXQJPDAYAKQPPJVIAQPAAAYWPJDDAAAYEPJPJAAAYEEVPPAAYKPVPAAYQKQEAEVAEJAQVAQPAWQVPHHHHHHHHYIVPAAYHHUDVJAAAYKWKKFQKQEQEKQPDOJIPIACAIAIAOABAOAOACAUCACAIAOAOJUAQJAKPAKKKLAA”

Everyone is crying. Everyone is staring at us and crying. This is all your fault. Look at what you’ve done. They’re crying. They’re all crying because of you. How could you do this??!!

I look down. The well is so deep and mysterious. What lies at the bottom? I’ve never even considered. I swim down. It’s so dark and cold. I can’t breathe. I know the answer is here, at the end of the world. It must be. I just have to keep going. It’s got to be here. There cannot be anything but the truth. This is it. This is the truth. I can’t breathe. i can’t see. this is the truth. there’s a door. i open it and swim in. there’s air. i can breathe. i don’t want to breathe. it hurts.

“I always knew you’d come back.”

you’re standing over me. your cheeks are wet, you’re stroking my face. i don’t want to breathe. I don’t want to breathe! I DON’T WANT TO BREATHE! I DON’T WANT TO I DON’T WANT TO I DON’T WANT TO I NTJ KTPJTL WPAE MFOEL DIIE QBRK DIHNH HTMHE

“It’ll be okay. You’re here with me, and I’m going to be okay. We’ll live.”

you put your lips on mine. Ah. aaaaaaah. NO NO NO NO NO

“Ibglni ogbevz nbayiomu”

“I demand to speak with the manager!”

“I am the manager.” I curve my lips upwards?

“This is completely unprofessional. You call yourself a rjepnhhgsiomn?””””::

my well is missing. where is my well.. please i need it my well, please where is it. wheres the well. was it you? oh. you took it didnt you.

I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this has to isngqq kntfwk pokcjerpama dukkjc qfmmsif’’’

I look around the streets.I ask everyone. no one’s Talking to me. noone but you, and the only thing you say is rljlvute vitlndderiefy fxyooen. Don’t even know what that means!

i GRAb you by the shoulders, “WHERE IS IT

you slap me. it hurts. it really realy hurts. you open your mouth, and )brown noise( comes out of every hole in your face. ew.>. Do nt you understand how terrified I am?

they’re thirsty;; you need Water to surv./ve. Water. you know. Water. from the wellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

they’ll die. They’re going `to DIe because we dont have Water…………. —!:;;WHERE IS IT i ;just want you to understand what a horrible person you arewanna make it- Very fucking clear. get it into your head . Look at what you’ve done. e’yOuv destroy\d me. utterIy.

Tell me where the well is.-

“Here’s the well.”

this isnt funny–No not funny at all, Ive never felt so helpless show me it now

“Okay.”

here It is. you brought me over There in the badlands sits the well you hid. papa said not: To go there. cant forgive you. youre a bad person. Im sorry can’t forgive you but its ok because the well is here. the wells here and “im gonna be ok. im gonna be fine.

yep. prple haaim!!

Here goes I in the wwwweeeeeeeelllllllll its all going away all the pain all the trouble im safe im safe and im home. you cant touch me here. the well will keep me safe. The well loves me. I love it even more. I’m home. My soul is hearty. I’m going to be fine. I’m going to be fine. Im going to be fine. im gonna be fine. im gon be fine i m goin br to fien i im im im im