The Devil's Well
Author: Daemon Manx; Robert Chiossi
Date: 2022-01-01 08:00:00+00:00
Description: Gary Butler is about to become the first sixth grader in Fairmount to ever jump the Devil’s Well; a forty-foot cliff dive into the icy black water below. This Rite of Passage is not for the feint of heart, but if Gary pulls it off, he will no doubt become a living legend at his school and in the eyes of Sarah Meyers. Gary Butler isn’t the first boy to make a foolish decision to impress a girl. And although he won’t be the last, he just might end up a legend after all.
Publisher: lastwaltzpublishing
Rights: All rights reserved (#3169580998031941)

The Devil’s Well

Daemon Manx

Last Waltz Publishing

5 Midland Avenue

Pompton Plains, NJ 07444

Owned: R. R. Chiossi

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 Last Waltz Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address:

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Gary Butler stepped carefully to the edge of the great drop-off and peered over into the dark choppy water below. His heart somersaulted and then descended into his stomach. What little nerve he thought he might have had a moment ago was gone. The sight of the rock face as it stretched out beneath him and the massive height from which he stood made him dizzy. The waterfall that cascaded off the mountain to his left had etched a gorge in the side of the outcropping and created a massive churning pool at the base of the cliff. Gary positioned himself at the jump point where only the bravest of the boys ever ventured to go. The dive was less than forty feet, but it felt like a whole lot more. The concave vector of the granite sloped inward beneath the precipice creating the illusion of a never-ending drop. Also, the ceaseless roar of the waterfall just a short arm’s distance away helped befuddle the sensory perception at this altitude. Gary had been sure—today would be the day he finally made the jump. But now that he was here, standing at the edge, looking out into the ink-black abyss, he knew there was no way. It wasn’t called the Devil’s Well for nothing.

“Aww, I told ya he wasn’t gonna do it,” Timmy Birch heckled. He was a grade older than Gary and had been riding him since last year about jumping the Well. It was a rite of passage for the boys in Fairmount, and many of the girls too. By the time they reached high school it was expected that they all jump the well, at least once. Many had done it as early as eighth and seventh grade. Timmy Birch, Scott Clark, and Willie Thomsen had all made the jump earlier this spring during the first warm days when the black soup at the bottom of the pit was just shy of fifty degrees. The boys had come out of the water purple and damn near hypothermic. None of them expected Gary would go through with it. No sixth grader ever had.

“No way, man.” Willie threw up his hands and soured his face as if he had eaten a rotten sock. “We didn’t hike all the way up here just to watch this clown chicken out.” He shouted loud enough to be heard over the roar of the falls. “Get your bitch-ass up there and jump!”

The others howled and laughed at their friend’s demands for a show to take place. Gary had been boasting to all of them at school, saying how he was really going to do it. Today was the day, he told them. “Today, I’m going to jump the well.” He had been so convincing he had even believed it himself. That was until he got a look over the edge and lost his nuts. Which happened quite often. It was easy to walk around with King Kong’s balls when you weren’t standing on the cliff looking at just how far a drop it really was. It was an entirely different story when you got right up to it. Gary walked back to where the older boys were standing, feeling nervous and embarrassed.

“Let’s get outta here.” Scott slapped Willie on the back. “I told ya he wasn’t gonna do it.”

“Bullshit!” Willie spat. “This little shit dragged us all the way up here and he is going in the Well if I have to throw him myself.” This was met with more laughter from everyone except Gary, who smiled and tried to look relaxed. He attempted to act casual as if his heart wasn’t trying to jump out of his chest with every beat. But his hands were slick, and he could feel his legs trembling.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he whined. “I didn’t know how cold it was gonna be up here.” He wrapped his arms around his chest to prove how chilly he was. It was a weak show at that. “It’ll be warmer in a week or two.”

Willie threw his hands up in disgust and made a sound as if all the air in his body had decided to leave at once. “Unbelievable!”

“You know, Gary.” Timmy approached him. “You don’t need to do this to impress anyone. No sixth grader has ever jumped the Well. I mean…it would have been pretty cool if you did. I bet the kids at school would talk about you for a real long time.” Timmy was the smart one out of the three and had a pretty good idea what he was doing. “But no one’s gonna think you’re a pussy or anything like that, at least no one who counts.” He turned to his friends and exaggerated his speech. “You guys aren’t gonna think Gary is a pussy, are ya?” Scott smirked and shook his head. “Guess not, probably.”

Willie wasn’t about to play along, not even for a minute. “To hell with that. We didn’t come all this way to watch this pussy chicken out.”

Timmy snickered; Willie had played his part exactly as expected. “Well, of course there are some who might give ya a hard time. But I wouldn’t worry about them.” He watched the younger boy nervously shift in the spot he was standing. “You make the jump when your good and ready. It’s not for everyone. Shit, some kids never jump the Well. I won’t think anything less of ya.” Timmy snorted as he laughed, which made Gary feel even more uneasy.

Despite the chilly breeze that raced over the crest of Mt. Hope, Gary could feel the flush of frustration and embarrassment heating him up. He looked at the older boys knowing he had disappointed them. The patronizing look on Timmy Birch’s face said it all. He had known that Gary wasn’t going to make the jump, and he wasn’t going to let him live it down, no matter what he said to the contrary. He was going to make sure every kid in school knew that Gary had chickened out. Willie continued to pace back and forth flailing his arms in the air out of disgust, as if his entire life had been wasted due to the events of one afternoon. But it was the way that Scott looked at Gary that affected him most. It was a look of pity; a look Gary knew all too well. It had been the same look his father had given him countless times in the past. It said, you will never amount to shit, kid. You’ll never leave your mark in this world.

“Come on,” Timmy called out over the blare of the rushing water and the growing howl of the wind that had just started to kick up. “There’s always next year.”

A slow boil started in the pit of Gary’s chest and quickly spread to his extremities. It rushed up his neck and into his face. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead even though the air had suddenly turned quite chilly. He scanned the looks of disappointment and apathy that stared back at him. An image of what the rest of the school year would look like etched into his brain as clear as the present moment. It would not end here. How could it after he had made such a show at school today? He had even told Sarah Meyers his plans. Today, he was gonna jump the Well. He recalled the way her face had lit up and the sparkle that had come to her chestnut brown eyes with just a hint of gold around the pupils.

“Really,” she gasped in amazement. “Aren’t you scared?”

Her sudden interest was intoxicating. “Heck no,” he had replied.” There’s nothin to it.”

Her reactions prompted a far more exaggerated response than even he was prepared to process. It fueled his still developing adolescent head with a misguided, youthful vibrato. Gary had taken her interest as a prompt to elaborate about how he was going to be the first sixth grader to attempt such a feat. He told her how he intended to run toward the edge as fast as he could, and about the giant leap he would take as his feet left the ground. All the while Sarah listened, mesmerized by his bravery and prowess.

Now, all he could imagine was the look on her face when she learned he had chickened out at the last second. Her smile would fade into the same disappointed look that Willie wore. Gary thought he could probably stand being called a chicken by the older boys and all the riding that he would get. He could probably even endure the humiliation he would face from the kids in his own grade, as well. But the idea of watching that sparkle fade from Sarah’s eyes was something he wasn’t prepared to deal with. In the end it had been thoughts of Sarah that prompted him toward action. Gary Butler wasn’t the first, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last boy to make a foolish decision just to impress a woman. At least it was one he wouldn’t regret for all that long.

Timmy and the other boys turned and headed toward the path that led down the mountain toward Davenport Lane. “Let’s get outta here, guys.” They walked off leaving Gary alone at the top of the cliff. The sixth grader’s blood began to churn, and then boil, much like the pitch-black soup at the bottom of the Well.

He watched as they walked away, hearing in his head everything they would say as soon as they had the chance. The fever that reddened Gary’s face started to burn like an ember and his chest. His pounding heart consuming gallons of his fiery blood with each pronounced throb. The slow shakes that had started in his legs and arms escalated and neared convulsive proportions. Gary pivoted on his heels, crouched low to gain traction, and bolted toward the drop-off at a full sprint.

Timmy, Scott, and Willie were just stepping onto the path when a high-pitched scream cut through the wind and the roar of the falls like a harpoon. They turned to see Gary rocketing toward the edge of the cliff, running like a shit-house rat with its head on fire. They froze in their tracks as the small sixth grader leapt from the precipice into the air above the Well. The dumbfounded looks on all three of their faces were that of complete shock. What startled them most of all was what they heard Gary scream as he jumped into the air and disappeared over the ledge. Later, when questioned, all three boys would answer the same. Gary had jumped the Well and screamed. “KISS MY ASS, PUSSIES!!!!”

The feeling of weightlessness lasted for only about a quarter of a second, but it was invigorating. Gary had run toward the edge as fast as he possibly could. His heart had been hammering inside his chest. Every raw nerve in his body, and every instinct had told him to stop. But all he could think about was how impressed Sarah would be when she found out he had gone through with it; that Gary Butler was the first and only sixth grader to ever jump the well. The feeling of weightlessness disappeared as gravity did its thing. Suddenly, Gary was flailing toward the ink black water below like a misguided ballistic warhead. His arms and legs beat against the air to slow his descent, but it was useless. He had stopped breathing at some point as he prepared to meet the fast-approaching surface of the water.

The fall lasted for all of about two seconds, but from Gary’s perspective it had felt a whole lot longer, a lifetime in fact. The satisfaction that he had really gone through with it, began to sink in. But it vanished as soon as he hit the churning surface of the dark water and was seized by the incapacitating artic blast. It was cold, still in the low fifties, and the icy chill attacked his chest like a swarm of hornets as he plunged deep into the murk. He continued to be driven deeper and deeper as his momentum carried him downward. The suffocating darkness enveloped him, and the thrill of the jump was quickly replaced with a far more menacing sensation. As Gary was propelled further down into the abyss and the black water shrouded him more thoroughly, an overwhelming thought seized him. He wasn’t alone down here.

Panic began to set in as his downward momentum slowed and he found himself God knows how far below the surface. It was black, blacker than black. It was so dark it felt as if the water were absorbing what little light dared penetrate the surface. Gary’s lungs were already burning as he started to swim in a direction he could only hope was up. With each stroke he forced himself to reach a little harder, and to propel himself a little faster. He knew he couldn’t hold his breath much longer.

Panic turned to terror as Gary kicked at the inky tar cocooning him. He felt as if cinder blocks were tied to his legs, that he couldn’t move them fast enough. And although he was sure his eyes were open it was still impossible to see a thing. Then he felt it. He screamed as something brushed against his leg.

He heard his voice under water as he cried out and sucked in a mouthful of the murk. He choked and gagged as he continued to claw his way to the surface, away from whatever it was that had brushed against him. He had been fighting his way up for what felt like a week, he had to be close. He coughed again and could feel himself about to take a lungful of the artic water when the faintest shimmer of sunlight appeared less than a few feet above his head. He had made it; he was going to be alright.

Gary broke the chop of the Well and bobbed like a spastic balloon. He coughed up snot and gagged on the remainder of the water he had swallowed. Timmy, Scott and Willie peered down over the edge at him as he splashed about on the surface. The three older boys started hooting and hollering down to him. Gary was unable to decipher the exact praises they were raining on him, but he was able to get the gist of it. He looked up to see the smile on the older children’s faces and began to smile himself, forgetting momentarily about his present situation. He raised his arm up out of the water and waved to them. “I did it,” he called out. “I really d—”

Gary was suddenly yanked under the water. Something had taken hold of his leg just below the knee. Something strong with an incredibly powerful grip latched onto him and dug into the flesh. Gary swallowed even more water as he was dragged down and nearly blacked out. He probably would have if it weren’t for the searing pain that bolted through him, setting all his nerves on fire at once. It was sharp. It was pointed. And it was strong. Whatever had grabbed him dug into the skin below Gary’s kneecap and then into the muscles beneath. He felt it rip and then he heard a large snap just before it let him go. Gary fought to kick in his semi-conscious state, and somehow managed to move. He broke the surface once again and listed like a sealion that had just been bitch-slapped by an Orca.

The other boys watched in horror as Gary returned to the surface. Even in the black water they could see the color change that had begun to surround him. A deep scarlet engulfed the area where Gary lolled like a broken cork. The child fought to hold his head up but could not. It continued to roll back on his neck. The look in his eyes was a mix between disorientation and unadulterated terror. Timmy watched as the child opened his mouth, attempted to raise his arm, and call up to them.

Then it grabbed him again. Gary Butler was swallowed up by the crimson-black water and vanished into the Well. Timmy Birch had been right after all. The kids in Fairmount talked about Gary Butler for a very long time after that day. The only sixth grader to ever jump the Well. The last child that ever dared to try.

No remains were ever recovered, despite a full investigation by the Fairmount police with the aid of county divers. The Well was simply too damn deep. A fissure that possibly went as far as Hell had been discovered during the search and was believed to be the final resting place of the young boy.

Sarah Meyers cried for nearly a month and never forgot the day Gary Butler had told her all about the Devil’s Well and how he would be the first sixth grader to ever jump it. For a long time, the golden flecks that peppered her eyes shined a bit duller than they had in the past. But in the end, even Sarah got over it. As well as most of the town, save Gary’s mom and even his dad. The kid had left a mark after all.

On the year anniversary of that tragic day, Timmy Birch, Scott Clark, and Willie Thomsen made one last trip to Devil’s Well in honor of Gary. They brought with them a six pack of PBR and a can of spray paint. They shared the beers and stayed as far from the drop off as they could until they were ready to leave. Then they took the paint and left the mark that is still there, although now it is somewhat faded and worn. But if one were to dare to follow the path that leads from Davenport Lane to the top of Mt. Hope, it is still easy enough to see. On the granite outcropping that parallels the falls is written an ode to Fairmount’s greatest legend.

GARY BUTLER

RIP

KISS MY ASS PUSSIES!

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