Robert Hayes stood on the doorstep of the dilapidated house, holding seven-year-old Lily’s hand. The girl coughed quietly, almost imperceptibly, but her father heard every sigh. In that cough was their entire story of the last two years—endless hospitals, expensive medications they had to buy by borrowing money.

And his wife’s gaze, gradually turning from sympathetic to irritated, and then disappearing altogether along with her. «Dad, is this going to be our home?» Lily asked, looking around the yard overgrown with weeds and the leaning fence. Her voice was weak, but it held that childish hope that kept Robert from giving up completely.

«Yes, sunshine. This will be our home,» he replied, squeezing her small palm. In the pocket of his jeans lay the last money from selling their city apartment.

Almost all of it had gone toward this half-ruined little house in a godforsaken small town in rural Kansas, but here there was clean air, silence, and no one to look at them with pity or judgment. The house looked depressing. The paint had peeled off and hung in shreds like old skin.

The roof had caved in places, and the windows were boarded up with planks. But Robert saw not only that. He saw a place where Lily could recover.

Where they could start over, far from hospital corridors and the compassionate stares of neighbors. Old lady Harriet, who sold them the house, had warned that the place was restless, but Robert dismissed it as small-town superstitions. He had no choice; this was the only property he could afford.

Besides, what problems could be worse than those they had already endured? When they went inside, Lily immediately ran to explore the rooms, and the house echoed with children’s laughter for the first time in many months. Robert felt something warm stir in his chest.

Maybe they would manage. Maybe here, among these old walls, his daughter would finally get better. The first weeks passed in endless work.

Robert patched the roof from morning till night, replaced rotten boards, fixed the stove. His hands were covered in calluses, his back ached, but the work helped him not think about how little money was left and what would happen when it ran out. Lily helped as she could, handing tools, sweeping trash, and her cough gradually became less frequent.

The neighbors were few and taciturn. Occasionally, Aunt Mabel from the next house came by—a skinny old woman with sharp eyes—who brought milk and vegetables. But she looked at them warily, as if expecting something bad.

«The house has been empty for a long time,» she said once, watching Robert paint the window frames. The previous owners left at night without saying anything. And before them, others lived there only briefly.

«Why did they leave?» Robert asked, not looking up from his work. Aunt Mabel shrugged—who knows. People said different things.

But the place is restless, that’s for sure. Robert didn’t ask further. He had enough of his own problems to worry about small-town gossip.

The main thing was that Lily felt better. Her cheeks turned pink, the cough almost disappeared, and she started running around the yard again like a healthy child. But then the sounds began.

At first, Robert thought it was the wind in the chimney or the creak of old boards. At night, the house made many sounds—creaking, crackling, sighing like a living thing. But these sounds were different.

They came not from the house, but from somewhere deep in the yard, and they sounded like… crying. Quiet, drawn-out crying that started deep in the ground and rose up, becoming clearer. Robert listened, lying in bed, feeling chills run down his spine.

The sound was too human to be the wind, but too strange to be real crying. «Dad, do you hear it?» Lily whispered one night, crawling under his blanket. «What, sunshine?» Robert hugged his daughter, feeling her little heart pounding.

«Someone’s crying. In the yard.» Robert listened to the night silence.

The sound was barely audible, but it definitely existed—a quiet, hopeless sobbing coming from the darkness. In the morning, Robert decided to inspect the yard. In daylight, everything looked normal—an overgrown plot with weeds, an old shed, a leaning fence.

But in the far corner, almost hidden by tall grass, he found something he hadn’t noticed before—an old well. The well was ancient, built from stones darkened by time. The iron cover was rusted and shifted aside, leaving a gaping black hole.

Robert approached closer and looked down. The darkness was absolute; even dropping a stone, he didn’t hear a splash or impact at the bottom. Deep, he muttered, feeling an inexplicable anxiety.

That evening, the sounds resumed. Now Robert knew exactly where they came from—the well. The crying was quieter than usual but more distinct, and words seemed to be in it.

Indistinct, distorted, but definitely human. Robert got out of bed and went to the window. Moonlight illuminated the yard with silvery glow, and the well appeared as a black spot among the grass.

The sound grew stronger, becoming almost calling, and Robert thought someone was calling his name. «Don’t go there, Dad!» Lily whispered, appearing beside him. «I’m scared.»

«It’s okay, sunshine. It’s just the wind,» Robert lied, but he didn’t believe it himself. There was no wind; the night was completely still.

The next day, he decided to talk to Aunt Mabel. The old woman listened silently, nodding as if expecting this conversation. «I know about that well,» she said finally.

«It’s old; my grandfather told stories about it. They dug it during famine years, looking for water. They found it, but the water was dead.

Whoever drank it got sick, and whoever drank a lot died outright. And what did they do with it? They wanted to fill it in, but it wouldn’t fill. The earth caved in, stones sank, like a bottomless pit.

Then the sounds started. They say someone lives there. Someone who can’t find peace.»

Robert wanted to laugh, but something in the old woman’s voice made him take her words seriously. In her eyes was fear—not feigned, but real, suffered through years. «What do you advise?» he asked.

«Leave here. While it’s not too late.» But Robert couldn’t leave

He had no money for new housing, and most importantly—Lily was finally recovering. The country air was working; the cough had almost vanished, and the girl became active and cheerful again. How could he deprive her of that because of some night sounds? Instead of leaving, he decided to deal with the well once and for all.

If someone or something really lived there, he needed to find out. After all, he was a grown man, and small-town superstitions couldn’t scare him. Robert bought a lantern, rope, and hook in the nearby town.

If the well was really bottomless, at least he’d find out how deep it was. And if something was there, he’d handle it like a man. Meanwhile, the night sounds became clearer.

Now Robert could clearly make out a voice—female, young, full of despair. The voice called for help, begged, cried. Sometimes it seemed to call his name, but that could be imagination.

«Rob! Help me, Rob!» His heart clenched at that call. The voice held such pain, such hopelessness, that Robert felt a physical need to help. Whoever it was, he or she needed help.

Lily heard the voice too. The girl became restless. She often woke at night and asked to sleep in her father’s bed.

She said nothing, but Robert saw fear in her eyes. «Dad, what if we move?» she asked one morning, poking at her oatmeal with a spoon. «Why, sunshine? Don’t you like it here?» «I do.»

But the voice in the well. It’s very sad. I feel sorry for it.

Robert realized he couldn’t delay anymore. Lily was too impressionable, and these night sounds could harm her psyche. He had to act.

That same evening, after Lily fell asleep, Robert took the lantern and rope and headed to the well. But first, he prepared more thoroughly. In the shed, he found an old ladder, checked its strength, gathered tools that might be useful.

If someone really needed help there, he had to be ready for any situation. The sounds started as soon as he left the house—quiet crying that grew louder with each step. But now Robert heard more details in them.

It wasn’t just crying; it was a whole range of sounds. Sobs, moans, sometimes something like words. And another sound that made him stop in the middle of the yard—quiet gurgling, like someone trying to breathe underwater.

His heart pounded wildly. But he forced himself to go forward. Up close, the well seemed even more ancient than in daylight.

The stones at its base were not just old; they were archaic, like remnants from some long-forgotten era. On some stones were strange symbols, carved or scratched with an unknown tool. Robert took out his phone and photographed several symbols.

In the flash light, they seemed even more sinister—curved lines resembling snakes or tree roots, intertwined in a complex pattern. One symbol particularly caught his attention; it was larger than the others and located right above the well’s entrance. It was a figure like a person with arms outstretched, but instead of a head, a spiral.

The iron cover had shifted even further, as if something from inside tried to move it. Upon closer inspection, Robert found that the metal was covered not just with rust; there were deep scratches on it, as if someone from inside had desperately tried to get out for a long time. Strange spots on the stones, which in daylight looked like ordinary mold, now, in the lantern light, resembled something else entirely.

They formed patterns, almost like writing, and were too symmetrical to be random. Robert leaned closer and made out silhouettes in them—human figures frozen in poses of agony or supplication. The air around the well was not just cold; it was heavy, as if saturated with invisible moisture.

Breathing became harder, and Robert felt sweat break out on his face, though the night was cool. The lantern began to dim, though the batteries were new. He leaned over the opening and directed the beam downward.

The light truly got lost in the darkness, not reaching the bottom, but now Robert noticed that this darkness was unusual. It was dense, almost material, like black fog absorbing the light. And in this darkness, something moved.

At first, he thought it was a play of shadows, but the movement was too purposeful. Something was slowly rising from the depths, approaching the surface. Robert backed away from the edge but couldn’t make himself leave.

He dropped a stone and started counting. One, two, three. The seconds dragged on endlessly.

Ten, eleven, twelve. And finally, after fifteen seconds, came a sound—not an impact on the bottom, but a splash. So there was water below.

But why did the stone fall so long? Is anyone there? He called, feeling foolish. His voice echoed off the well’s walls and returned distorted, as if passed through some filter. The crying instantly stopped.

Such silence fell that Robert heard not only his own breathing and heartbeat but something else—a quiet hissing, like air slowly escaping from a huge balloon. Then from the depths came a voice, and Robert realized he was wrong thinking of a person who accidentally fell. This voice sounded as if spoken underwater, and it held such longing, such hopelessness, that chills ran down Robert’s spine.

Help me! Please! I’ve been waiting so long! The voice was barely audible but absolutely real. Female, young, but with such weariness, as if it had sounded for many years. Robert felt his hair stand on end—not just from fear, but from pity.

Whoever it was, he or she was clearly suffering. Who are you? What happened to you? He shouted into the well. The answer didn’t come immediately.

First came something like a sob, then quiet laughter more like crying, and only then words: «Can’t! Get out! So long! Here! So cold and dark! Help me, please! I don’t want to be alone anymore!» In the last words was such pleading that Robert felt physical pain in his chest. The words came distorted, as if from underwater, but the emotion in them was so strong it left no doubt of the suffering’s authenticity. Robert inspected the rope again.

20 meters of strong climbing cord. He tied it to an old oak near the well, made several knots for security, and checked the fastening. The tree was massive, roots deep—it would hold.

But before descending, he decided to try connecting again with whoever was below. «What’s your name? How long have you been there?» «Charlotte.» Came from below after a long pause.

«My name is Charlotte Bennett.» «And the time?» «Time flows differently here. Sometimes it seems like eternity has passed, and sometimes like I just fell.»

«Fell? How did it happen?» «I don’t remember exactly. It hurt a lot. In the heart…

And I thought it would be better here. That there would be no pain here. But I was wrong.

Here the pain is different. The pain of loneliness.» Robert closed his eyes…

Apparently, below was a girl who ended up there from a suicide attempt. «How long has she been there? Days? Weeks? How did she survive without food and water?» «Charlotte, I’m coming down to you. I have a rope; we’ll get out.»

«Really?» Hope sounded in the voice, squeezing Robert’s heart. «You’re not deceiving? People often promise help and then leave.» «I won’t leave.

I promise.» He checked the knots again, turned on the spare flashlight, and slowly began the descent. Descending into the well was a real test.

The first few meters weren’t so scary—ordinary stone walls covered in moss and moisture. But the deeper he went, the stranger the sensations became. The lantern tied to his belt swayed and cast trembling shadows on the walls, but these shadows behaved wrongly.

They moved out of sync with the light, as if living their own life. Sometimes Robert thought faces flashed in the shadows—distorted, full of pain, begging for help. The stones became more slippery.

What first seemed ordinary moisture, upon closer look, was some kind of slime. It was not just wet; it was warm, almost hot, and pulsed under his fingers, as if alive. Robert tried not to think what it could be.

The smell changed too. Staleness and dampness gradually gave way to something else—a sweetish, nauseating aroma reminiscent of rotting flowers and something chemical. The deeper he descended, the stronger the smell became, mixed with other notes—a metallic tang of blood and something he couldn’t identify.

The well’s walls were unusual too. At about ten meters depth, the stones changed—more ancient, covered with the same mysterious symbols he saw above. But here the symbols were sharper, deeper, as if carved with special force.

And they glowed. Barely noticeably, with a dim greenish light, but definitely glowed. Robert stopped to examine one symbol closer.

In the lantern light, it looked like a spiral surrounded by strange signs resembling runes. When he touched the symbol, the stone was warm, and a barely noticeable vibration ran along the wall. «Where are you?» he shouted down.

«Very close. I see your light. It’s so bright.

I haven’t seen light for so long.» The voice became clearer, but new tones appeared in it. Now it sounded not only desperate but somehow… hungry.

As if this voice craved not just help, but something more. Robert continued the descent and soon found that the well widened at this depth. The walls diverged, forming something like a cave.

The air here was even denser, almost material, and breathing became harder. And then his foot touched something solid. The bottom.

But it was an unusual well bottom. Underfoot squelched not water, but something viscous, warm. Robert directed the lantern down and saw he was ankle-deep in some dark liquid.

It was almost black, but with iridescent streaks on the surface, and from it came that same sweetish smell. He looked around. The cave was larger than he expected.

The walls receded into darkness beyond the lantern’s light, and the ceiling was lost somewhere above. And everywhere were those glowing symbols, forming complex patterns on the walls’ surface. But the most striking was in the far corner of the cave.

There, in a semicircular niche, sat a girl. At first glance, she looked completely ordinary—young, about 20, in a simple white dress. Long blonde hair, pale but beautiful face.

She sat hugging her knees and looked at him with such gratitude that his heart ached with pity. But as Robert approached, he noticed details that made him wary. The girl’s dress was not just dirty; it was wet, as if she had just come out of water, but no drops fell from it.

Her skin was not just pale; it was almost transparent, with bluish veins visible underneath. And the eyes! The eyes were too large, too bright, and had no pupils. «You came,» she whispered, and her voice echoed through the cave.

«I’ve waited so long! Called so long!» Robert approached closer, holding the lantern in front. The light fell on the girl, and he saw more oddities. Her shadow on the wall was wrong and too large, with something animal in it.

And when she turned her head, her movements were too smooth, as if she moved underwater. «What’s your name? What happened?» he asked, trying to speak calmly, though every instinct screamed to run. «Charlotte!» she answered, and for the first time, the voice sounded completely normal.

«My name is Charlotte Bennett. I… I fell here. Fell a long time ago, and can’t get out.

The walls are too slippery, and I… I’m so weak.» She tried to stand, and Robert saw her feet didn’t touch the ground. She literally floated in the air a few centimeters high.

The girl apparently noticed his gaze and quickly lowered, touching the surface. «Sorry,» she said embarrassedly. «Here…

Here everything is not like above. Sometimes I forget how to stand.» «Don’t worry.

We’ll get out now,» Robert said, trying not to show his fear. «I have a rope.» Charlotte smiled, and that smile made him step back.

There were too many teeth in her smile, and the teeth were too sharp. But in a moment, everything became normal—an ordinary girl with an ordinary grateful smile. «You’re so kind,» she said.

«Not many would dare descend here. Most just listen from above and then leave. But you came.»

«Of course I came.» «Can’t leave a person in trouble.» «A person.»

—she repeated thoughtfully. «Yes. I was a person.

Once.» These words sounded so ominous that Robert felt his hair stand on end. But he forced himself to stay calm.

Perhaps the girl had just been here alone too long and gone a bit mad. «How long have you been here?» he asked, starting to untangle the rope. «Time.»

«Time goes differently here,» Charlotte answered, watching his movements with unhealthy interest. «Sometimes it seems eternity has passed, and sometimes like I just fell. But by feel…

Very long. Very, very long. And how did you survive? Without food, without water?» Charlotte laughed…

And her laughter echoed off the walls in a hundred voices: «survived.» «Oh, I didn’t survive. I died here.

Long ago. But death… Death in this place works differently than elsewhere.

Here it’s not release. Here it’s…» Continuation.

Robert froze, holding the rope. Every word from the girl confirmed his worst fears. But now he had gone too far to just turn and leave.

«Don’t worry,» Charlotte said, noticing his state. «I won’t harm you. I just want to get out of here.

Want to see the sun again, feel the wind. And also… Also, I want not to be alone.

So tired of loneliness.» In her voice was such longing that Robert felt pity for her, despite the horror of the situation. Whatever happened to this girl, she was definitely suffering.

«Okay,» he said, tying the rope around her waist. «Just hold on tight.» Charlotte nodded and gripped the rope with her hands.

And Robert saw her fingers were too long, and her nails more like claws. Ready, she whispered, and a strange fire lit in her eyes. «How long have you been here?» Robert asked, helping Charlotte stand.

«I don’t know. Days blend into one. Maybe a week? Or a month?» Her voice trembled.

Robert wanted to ask how she survived without food and water, but decided questions could wait. The main thing now was to get out. He tied the rope around her waist and showed how to hold on.

Charlotte nodded, but her movements were strangely slow, as if underwater. «I’ll climb up first and pull you up,» he explained. «Just hold the rope tight.»

The ascent was harder than the descent. Charlotte was light, but it seemed some invisible force pulled her down. The rope tightened as if he was lifting not a slim girl, but something immensely heavy.

Finally, they got out. Charlotte fell on the grass and lay there, breathing heavily. In the moonlight, Robert examined her better, and a strange feeling overcame him…

The girl was beautiful, but her beauty was unearthly, almost ghostly. «Thank you,» she whispered, rising. «You saved me.

Let’s go to the house.» «You need to warm up and eat,» Robert suggested. But Charlotte shook her head: «No.

I can’t go there. I must go.» «Where? Where do you live? Maybe call an ambulance?» «No need to call anything.

I just… will go.» She took a few steps to the yard’s edge but suddenly stopped and turned. In her eyes, Robert saw something that made him step back.

«Do you live here alone?» she asked. «With my daughter.» «But she’s asleep.»

«Daughter.» Charlotte smiled that same wrong smile. «What’s her name?» «Lily.»

«And why do you?» He didn’t finish. Charlotte turned and quickly headed to the house. Her movements suddenly became sharp and purposeful, not at all like an exhausted person’s.

«Stop!» Robert shouted, rushing after her. But Charlotte had already vanished into the darkness, as if dissolved in air. Robert searched the yard with the lantern, looked behind the shed, in the bushes, but Charlotte was nowhere.

She disappeared as suddenly as she appeared. The only proof it wasn’t a dream was the rope still tied to the tree by the well. But there were other traces.

On the ground near the well were strange prints—not quite footprints, but something blurrier, as if someone didn’t walk but glided over the surface. And another alarming fact—the grass where Charlotte passed was covered in a thin layer of frost, though the night was warm. Robert returned to the house and checked Lily.

The girl slept peacefully, but as he approached her bed, he noticed something strange. On the window by the bed was a film of moisture, as if someone breathed on the glass from inside. And on the windowsill lay a small puddle of water.

He touched the water with his finger; it was icy and had a strange salty taste. Seawater? But where did seawater come from here? Lily’s skin was cool but not cold, breathing even. Everything seemed normal, but Robert felt something had changed.

In the room’s air hung a barely perceptible smell, that same sweetish, nauseating aroma he felt in the well. Sleep wouldn’t come. He lay in bed replaying the strange encounter in his head.

Every detail seemed more sinister. Charlotte’s too-pale skin, her strange movements, ability to disappear. And mainly—her interest in Lily.

Daughter. She repeated then, and in her voice was such greed. By morning, Robert decided.

He must learn the truth about what happened. And start with the locals. First, he went to Aunt Mabel, but the old woman wasn’t home.

A neighbor said she went to relatives and would return only in the evening. Then Robert decided to talk to other town residents. In the local store, behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman with a tired face.

When Robert asked about the well and possible accidents, she noticeably paled. «Why do you need to know?» she asked suspiciously. «I live in the house next to the well.

Hear strange sounds at night.» The woman crossed herself and looked around, as if afraid someone was listening. Sounds.

Yes, everyone knows about the sounds. But no one talks. Because talking is dangerous.

Why dangerous? Because she hears. Charlotte Bennett. The drowned one.

They say whoever mentions her, she comes to them. Robert felt a chill in his stomach. So he was right in his suspicions.

«Tell me about her. It’s important.» The woman was silent long, then sighed: It was 15 years ago.

Charlotte was a beauty, smart. All the guys chased her, but she chose Ethan Reynolds. Rich guy from the city.

Promised to marry, build a house. Charlotte believed him, even… Well, believed in everything.

She fell silent, clearly struggling for words. And then? And then this Ethan ran off with another. A week before the wedding.

Charlotte found out by chance—saw them in the nearby town. Came home white as a sheet, said nothing to anyone. And at night, she left.

To the well? Yeah. Started searching in the morning, but it was too late. Found only a scarf on the well’s edge and a note.

Wrote she couldn’t live with such shame. The woman wiped her eyes with her apron edge. Searched for her then.

Even called divers. But that well is strange. They say the bottom is rocky, with caves underneath.

Strong underground current. Probably carried her away. And when did the sounds start? Right away.

That same night. At first thought it was wind. Then realized—not wind.

And Charlotte didn’t rest. Calls someone. Waits.

Robert asked for Charlotte’s parents’ address, but it turned out they died long ago, couldn’t bear the grief. Their house was sold; new owners didn’t live long either. Charlotte scared them, the saleswoman explained.

Came to them at night. Said she wanted home. They moved out in a month.

Next, Robert visited the local paramedic, an elderly man who remembered those events. Yeah, I remember Charlotte, he said, pouring tea. Good girl.

Pity her very much. But strangely, the body was never found. Usually in our parts, water doesn’t hold the dead.

Floats them up in a couple days. And what’s special about that well? The paramedic darkened: The well is ancient. My grandfather said they didn’t dig it for water.

Dug for something else. In famine years, people resorted to anything. Even what they shouldn’t.

Meaning? Brought sacrifices. To old gods. Thought if they appeased, rain would come, harvest given.

They say they threw young girls there. Alive. Robert felt his hair stand on end.

And did it help? Help? Only made it worse. Because the place became cursed. Death settled there.

And not ordinary death, but hungry. The paramedic sipped tea and continued: After the revolution, wanted to fill the well. But earth caved, stones sank.

Like a bottomless pit. Then decided to just forget it. Only it didn’t forget itself…

And after Charlotte, anyone else? No. Charlotte was the last. But she turned out the strongest.

Others left, but she stayed. Clung to our world. And now pulls others to her.

By evening, Robert returned home heavy-hearted. The picture was getting gloomier. But the scary awaited at home.

Lily met him at the door, and he immediately knew something was wrong. The girl looked strange—too pale, with an absent gaze. «Dad, where were you?» she asked, and her voice lacked usual liveliness.

«In town, sunshine.» Handling business. «How do you feel?» «Good.»

Just slept a lot. And had strange dreams. What dreams? Lily went to the window and looked toward the well: Aunt Charlotte came again.

Said you met her. And now we’ll be friends. Robert’s heart skipped.

So contact was made not only with him. And what else did she say? Told about her place. Says it’s very beautiful there.

Underwater there’s a little house, and fish swim. And it’s not hard to breathe underwater if you get used to it. Lily turned to her father, and Robert saw her eyes were different.

Not in color—the color was the same. But something foreign, hungry appeared in them. «Dad, can I go look at the well?» Aunt Charlotte said she’ll show me something interesting.

«No.» Robert said sharply. Can’t go to the well.

It’s dangerous. For the first time in her life, his daughter looked at him with displeasure: Why not. Aunt Charlotte is kind.

She doesn’t want harm for me. «Lily, listen carefully. Charlotte!» Aunt Charlotte isn’t who she claims.

She might hurt you. «Not true.» Lily flared.

«You don’t know her. She’s lonely and sad, and needs a friend.» This was their first real quarrel.

Lily ran to her room and locked herself in, and Robert stood in the hallway, realizing the situation was spiraling out of control. In the evening, he talked to Aunt Mabel, who finally returned. The old woman listened to his story and paled.

«Worst is she latched onto the girl,» said Aunt Mabel. Charlotte always loved children. Dreamed of her own.

And now? Now she thinks she can take someone else’s child. What to do? Need to call a priest. But he won’t come soon.

And time doesn’t wait. Charlotte gets stronger every day. She feeds on the girl’s life force.

Then we must do something ourselves. Aunt Mabel was silent long, then took an old book in tattered binding from the cabinet. There’s one way.

But very dangerous. Need to descend to her again. And not just talk, but make her release the girl.

How? Give her what she wants. Not the child, but peace. But for that, need to learn what holds her.

What pain won’t let her go. Robert took the book. It was a collection of local legends and beliefs, handwritten, with yellowed pages.

Read, said Aunt Mabel. It’s written about ones like Charlotte. Maybe understand how to handle her.

But when Robert returned home, Lily wasn’t in her room. The bed was made, clothes in place, but the girl herself nowhere. And only then he heard the voice from the yard: Dad.

Dad, come here. Aunt Charlotte wants to talk to you. Lily’s voice sounded strange—distant, echoing, as if she shouted from underwater.

Robert ran out to the yard and stopped dead. Lily stood by the well. But she stood not on the ground, but in the air, a few centimeters high, as if an invisible force held her.

The girl’s eyes glowed with the same bluish light coming from the well. «Lily!» he shouted, rushing to her. But the girl raised her hand, and Robert felt he hit an invisible wall.

The air before him became dense, impenetrable. «Don’t come closer, Dad!» Lily said, and foreign intonations sounded in her voice. Aunt Charlotte said for now keep distance.

«Lily, this isn’t you talking. Where’s the real Lily?» «I’m here, Dad. Just…

Just now I understand better.» Aunt Charlotte showed me the truth. Bluish mist began rising from the well.

It swirled and thickened, gradually taking human shape. And before Robert stood Charlotte, but not the fragile girl he met in the well. This was majestic and terrifying at once.

Her dress billowed though no wind. Hair streamed around her head as if still underwater. And the eyes! Eyes like two wells, bottomless and cold.

Robert, she said, and her voice echoed across the yard. «We meet again. Release my daughter, he said, trying to speak firmly.»

Charlotte laughed, and this laugh was like shattering glass: your daughter. «And did you care for her when your wife left you? Didn’t you bring her here, to my place, knowing it’s dangerous?» «I didn’t know.» «Didn’t know? And the town folk were silent by chance? Or they warned, but you didn’t listen?» Robert realized she was right.

Aunt Mabel said from the start the place was restless. But he didn’t pay attention. «You yourself brought her to me,» Charlotte continued.

«Yourself gave her into my hands.» «So fate decided.» «No.

I’ll take her back. Try.» Robert tried again to approach Lily, but the invisible wall was insurmountable.

Moreover, with each attempt to break through, it became denser, and the air around him thickened, making breathing hard. «See?» Charlotte said. «You’re powerless.

And the girl?» «The girl is already half mine. Look at her closer.» Robert peered at his daughter’s face and was horrified.

Lily was becoming transparent. Through her skin showed bluish veins, and in her eyes flickered the same cold lights as Charlotte’s. «What are you doing to her?» «The same that was done to me.

Turning her into what I became. She’ll live underwater in my house. She’ll like it there.

She’ll die. No. She’ll become like me. Not alive, but not dead…

Eternal. Isn’t that better than short human life full of pain and disappointments?» Charlotte approached Lily and placed a hand on her shoulder. From the touch, the girl became even more transparent.

Besides, she’ll be bored alone. «I thought I could take you too. You’re a kind person.

Descended when I called. Helped me out. Isn’t it fair if I repay the same? I don’t want to.

Want or not, doesn’t matter. What matters is it will happen. But you have a choice—agree voluntarily or resist.

From that depends if it hurts.» Robert realized he had very little time left. Lily was becoming more transparent, her breathing slowing.

A bit more, and changes would be irreversible. He remembered the book Aunt Mabel gave, and words that the spirit can be appeased by giving what it really wants. Not a child, but peace.

Charlotte, he said, trying to speak calmly. I understand why you do this. You’re lonely.

It hurts. But taking us won’t rid you of pain. It will.

I’ll have a family. But we won’t love you by force. Love doesn’t work that way.

You know yourself, Ethan didn’t truly love you, or he wouldn’t leave. Charlotte’s face twisted in anger: don’t dare mention his name. Why? Because it still hurts…

15 years passed, and you still can’t forgive. He ruined my life. He acted basely.

But you ruined your life yourself when you decided you couldn’t live without him. Charlotte released Lily and turned to Robert. In her eyes blazed cold fire: you don’t understand.

I loved him. I gave him everything. And what? Love doesn’t give right to own a person.

Ethan made his choice. Base, cruel, but his. And you decided better to die than live with it.

Because living was unbearable. Was. Then.

But pain passes if you let it go. You cling to it like treasure. Robert saw his words touched her.

Charlotte was losing control, meaning her power over Lily weakened. The girl was becoming more material again. Know what I think? He continued.

You’re not afraid of pain. You’re afraid… To forget.

Afraid if you release the grudge, nothing will remain of your love. Not true. True.

But love isn’t grudge. Love is ability to wish happiness to another, even if he caused you pain. You can love Ethan and let him go at the same time.

Charlotte sank to her knees, and tears flowed from her eyes. Unusual tears, glowing like drops of molten silver. «I don’t know how,» she whispered.

«I’ve lived with this pain so long. It became part of me. Then let me help.»

Not by force, not coercion. Humanly. Robert felt the invisible wall disappear.

He approached Charlotte and carefully sat beside. «Tell me about him.» «Not how he left you.

What he was like when you were happy.» And Charlotte began telling. Robert didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

He sat by Lily’s bed, holding a homemade cross carved from wood. Not that he was especially religious, but now ready to grasp any straw. Toward morning, Lily spoke in her sleep.

First indistinctly, then clearer: yes, Aunt Charlotte? «Understand. Won’t tell Dad. Our secret.»

Robert gently shook his daughter, and she woke with a guilty expression. She came again. He asked.

Lily nodded, lowering her eyes. «What did she say?» «Said she’ll come for me soon.» «And you shouldn’t know?» «Said if I tell you, you’ll drown in the well too.»

Robert clenched his fists. Whoever this Charlotte was, she knew how to manipulate a child’s mind. In the morning, he took Lily to Aunt Mabel.

The old woman agreed to watch the girl, though crossing herself. «Bad business,» she said. «Charlotte clings to your daughter.

Need to do something.» What exactly? Need to call a priest. Let him bless the well, drive out evil.

But the nearest priest lived in the county seat, sixty miles away. And time passed, and each day Lily became paler, more detached. Robert decided to act alone.

If Charlotte is tied to the well, that’s where to deal with her. He bought salt, holy water from the only active church in the nearby town, and prepared for another descent into the well. In the evening, with Lily at Aunt Mabel’s, Robert headed to the well again.

The sounds started on approach—not crying this time, but something like a song. Quiet, mesmerizing melody, without words. At the well awaited a surprise.

The iron cover was fully shifted, and weak bluish glow came from the depths. And Charlotte began telling. At first reluctantly, then freer.

She spoke of Ethan not as a betrayer, but as the young man she loved. About his laugh, how he read her poems under the old oak, plans they made together. He wanted to be a teacher, she said, tears streaming down her transparent cheeks.

Dreamed of opening a school for rural kids. And me? I wanted to help him. Wanted our own children.

Robert listened, and gradually unfolded not a story of betrayal, but of two young people who sincerely loved but couldn’t cope with circumstances. And what happened then? Why did he choose another? Charlotte paused, as if gathering strength. Her parents were richer.

Had connections in the city, could get him a good job. And me? I had nothing. Only love.

And he chose gain over love. He… He told me it was temporary.

Would marry her, get the position, then we’d be together. As lovers. Charlotte’s voice trembled with pain.

He didn’t understand he was offering me to become what I never wanted. Robert began to understand. Ethan wasn’t a villain; he was weak, trying to have it all, not thinking of consequences.

And Charlotte? Charlotte was a young girl for whom love was everything. I refused, she continued. Said if he marries another, it’s over between us.

Thought he’d come to senses, choose me. But he… He chose her.

And you decided to end it. I decided I couldn’t live without him. Better die than live with this pain.

Charlotte raised her eyes to Robert. I was a fool. Young, stupid fool.

You were a person who loved too much. Yes, and that love killed me. And then? Then it didn’t give me peace.

Robert felt they were approaching the most important. Charlotte, tell me honestly. Do you still love him? She was silent long, then slowly nodded: yes.

Hate and love at once. Can’t choose one. And do you know what became of him? Charlotte shook her head.

For 15 years underground, she didn’t know what happened in the living world. He lived an unhappy life, Robert said softly. Aunt Mabel told.

Married that girl, got a job in the city. But family didn’t work. Wife turned capricious and cruel, no children.

Job brought no joy. Charlotte listened without interrupting. And he never forgot you.

Every year, on the day of your death, came here and brought flowers to the well. Until his own death. He…

He died. Charlotte whispered. 5 years ago.

Heart failed. They say last words were about you. Asked forgiveness.

Charlotte sobbed quietly, hopelessly. And with her tears, something began changing around. The bluish glow from her became softer, warmer.

And Lily, who stood motionless all this time, suddenly blinked and looked around confused. «Dad? What am I doing here?» She asked in a normal, lively voice. Robert felt incredible relief.

The bond between Charlotte and Lily weakened. «So he suffered too,» said Charlotte. «We both suffered.

All for nothing. Not for nothing. You loved each other.

Just couldn’t preserve it. And now too late to change anything. For you two—yes.

But you can release this pain. Can forgive him and yourself.» Charlotte raised her head and looked at Robert: and what will happen to me if I let go? What will remain of me without this pain? Love will remain.

Pure, without grudge impurities. The very love you felt at the beginning, when you didn’t know of betrayal yet. But then I’ll have to go.

Forever. Yes. But you’ll go in peace…

And maybe there, where you go, you can meet again. Without pain, without grudges. Charlotte looked at him long, then shifted gaze to Lily, who clung to her father.

She’s a good girl, Charlotte said quietly. Kind. Like I was once.

Yes. And she has a chance to live a happy life. Don’t take that chance from her.

I… I’ll try. But I’m scared to let go. What if there, where I go, no one waits? Someone waits.

Those who truly loved you. Parents, grandmother. And maybe, maybe Ethan waits too, to ask forgiveness.

Charlotte stood and approached the well. Stood on the edge, gazing into darkness. Robert, she said without turning.

Thank you. No one ever talked to me like that. With understanding.

Without fear, without judgment. Everyone deserves understanding. Even those who made mistakes.

Even ghosts. Especially ghosts. Because ghosts are people who couldn’t find peace.

Charlotte turned and smiled. For the first time, her smile was warm, alive. Tell the girl I won’t come anymore.

And that… Forgive me for the fear? I’ll tell. Charlotte stepped toward the well but suddenly stopped. And also tell that life is a gift.

The greatest gift. And it must be valued, no matter what. With these words, she stepped into the well.

But instead of falling, she slowly dissolved in air, turning into thousands of glowing sparks. The sparks rose to the stars and vanished, leaving only a warm breeze and the scent of wildflowers. The well darkened.

The bluish glow disappeared, and no sounds came from the depths anymore. Only ordinary night silence surrounded them. Lily approached the well’s edge and looked down.

«Dad, will Aunt Charlotte find peace?» She asked quietly. «I think yes, sunshine.» She finally could release her pain.

I feel sorry for her. She was very lonely. Robert hugged his daughter.

Lily was again an ordinary child—warm, alive, with clear eyes. «And know what I realized?» he said. «Loneliness isn’t always bad.

Sometimes need to be alone to understand what’s really important. Like us? Like us?» Mom left, and at first it seemed end of the world. But then I realized I have you.

And that’s most important. They went back to the house, holding hands. Warm light burned in the windows.

And the house no longer seemed alien or hostile. This was their home, their shelter. «Dad, will we stay here?» Lily asked.

«Do you want to?» «Very much. It’s good here. And clean air, kind people.

And also… Also I think Aunt Charlotte would be glad if we stayed. So happy people live in the house.» Robert smiled.

His little daughter was wiser than many adults. In the house awaited a surprise. On the kitchen table stood a bouquet of wildflowers, the ones growing by the well.

They were fresh, as if just picked, though no one entered the house at night. «This from Aunt Charlotte?» Lily asked.

«Probably from her. Last gift.» They put the flowers in a vase, and the house filled with summer aroma.

Robert understood this was a sign of forgiveness, sign that Charlotte finally found peace. Lily went to bed, and Robert went out to the yard and approached the well.

«Thank you, Charlotte,» he whispered into the darkness. «Thank you for letting us stay.» In response was only wind, but in this wind Robert felt warmth.

As if someone’s hand touched his shoulder, softly and soothingly. In the morning, they woke to birdsong. Lily looked better than ever, her cheeks rosy, eyes shining.

«Dad, today such a good day!» she exclaimed. And Robert agreed. The day was really good.

First of many good days awaiting them. Robert sat by the well long, listening to night silence.

For the first time in a week, no sounds from the depths. Only ordinary rural night—rustle of leaves, distant dog bark, quiet wind breath. When he returned to Aunt Mabel, she met him at the door.

«Well?» the old woman asked anxiously. «Seems it’s over,» Robert answered tiredly. They entered the house where Lily slept.

The girl looked calm, her cheeks pink, breathing even and deep. Robert gently placed hand on daughter’s forehead; skin warm, normal temperature. «Dad?» Lily opened eyes and smiled.

For the first time in days, her gaze clear and lively. «I’m here, sunshine.» I had a strange dream.

Aunt Charlotte came to say goodbye. Said she won’t bother me anymore and apologized. And also said you’re a very good dad.

Robert felt his throat tighten. So Charlotte kept her word. «Dad, can we not fear the well now?» Lily asked.

I think no one’s there anymore. Yes, daughter. Nothing to fear anymore.

They returned home early morning. The yard looked different—brighter, happier. Even the old house seemed less gloomy.

And the well. Robert approached and looked inside. Ordinary deep pit, nothing mystical.

At the bottom, water gleamed—clean, clear. In the following days, life began to improve. Lily fully recovered, her cough gone, and she became active and cheerful again…

Together they worked in the garden they started behind the house, repaired the fence, painted walls. Neighbors gradually got used to them. Aunt Mabel came almost every day, brought milk and vegetables, sometimes treats for Lily.

Other town residents started communicating too, and Robert realized they finally became part of this small community. A month passed since that night meeting at the well. Robert still sometimes woke at night and listened, but no more sounds.

Only silence and peace. Lily went to the local school. Few kids in class, only six, but the teacher kind and understanding.

The girl quickly made friends with classmates and returned home daily with new stories. Robert found work in the nearby town, helping a local farmer repair equipment. Money small, but enough for modest life.

And mainly, he gained stability absent for so long. One evening, as they sat on the porch watching sunset, Lily suddenly asked: Dad, do you miss Mom? Robert pondered: did he miss? Was there pain from betrayal? Yes, but not so sharp, not destructive.

Sometimes miss, he answered honestly. But know what? I realized sometimes people leave not because we’re bad. Just life turns that way.

Like Aunt Charlotte. Similar. Only Aunt Charlotte long couldn’t accept it.

But we could. Lily nodded with seriousness beyond her years. And also I thought, Robert continued: we have each other.

And that’s main. And we have our home, added Lily. I love it very much.

Even the well. Robert smiled. Yes, the well no longer seemed sinister.

On the contrary, now just part of their yard, their new life. Aunt Mabel said town folk talked that the unclean place cleansed. Some even came to see the well, but saw only ordinary stone masonry.

So did everything right, the old woman told Robert. The soul calmed, found peace. And a week later, something amazing happened.

In the morning, Robert found a small bouquet of wildflowers by the well. Unwithered, as if just picked, though no one in yard at night. Flowers by the well appeared several more times.

Always morning, always fresh. Robert didn’t know who brought them, but understood it was a sign. Sign of gratitude or forgiveness, perhaps last greeting from departed soul.

Winter passed calmly. Lily didn’t get sick, studied well, made friends. Robert insulated the house, stocked firewood.

And their little world became truly cozy. Evenings they read books, played checkers, and Lily told about school. Spring brought swallows that nested under the house roof.

Robert took it as good sign. Swallows nest only in kind places. By summer, he took an important step: wrote a letter to his ex-wife.

Not with reproaches or pleas to return, but just told how they live, how Lily recovered. Got reply in a month. Rebecca wrote glad for their well-being, regrets how it turned out, but no way back.

Robert wasn’t upset. On the contrary, felt relief. Last tie to past released, now they could build future without looking back.

One evening, as Lily did homework and he fixed the fence, an unfamiliar man approached. Turned out a buyer interested in the house. Offered good price, three times what Robert paid.

«We’ll think,» Robert said, though nothing to think. «Dad, we won’t sell our home.» Lily worried that evening.

«Of course not. This is our home. Here we became family.»

And that was truth. Here, in this old house by the mysterious well. They really became true family.

Not just father and daughter, but people supporting each other, trusting, building common future. The well stood in the yard corner, quiet and peaceful. Sometimes Robert approached and looked into the depths.

There was only water, clean and calm. And on the edge always lay those wildflowers, last reminder of the girl who finally found peace. «Thank you, Charlotte,» he quietly said sometimes.

«Thank you for teaching us to forgive.» Stars reflected in the well’s dark water, and from the house came Lily’s laughter. Life went on, and it was good.