Religion can be frightening – angels and demons, spirits speaking to men from the heavens, the dead rising from their cold earthen tombs, crucifixion, sin.  I was raised in a nonreligious home.  I say 'nonreligious' because our family never really belonged to a particular denomination.   We never attended church except for funerals and weddings.  We weren't atheists, however.  Mom used to pray all the time.   "Please God, let the car start today.  Please don't let the furnace go out before Christmas again this year.  Please don't let me be pregnant."  She’d ask God for all of those things when she thought no one was listening, and she always pressed her hands tightly together with her eyes raised high to the sky when she whispered each prayer.  My dad, on the other hand, would always talk to God as if He were right beside him, "Jesus Christ, would this thing work right for just once?," or "Lord, what now?"  I guess I always believed in a higher power too, just like my folks.  It was the neighbors, though, who really thought we were going to Hell.

We lived a little ways out of Caruthersville, in the southeast tip of Missouri, right along the Bible belt where everyone attended church and those who didn't were constantly being told how close they were to the gates of Hell.  At school I had been branded a 'sinner,' and with every second that my classmates weren't working they were preaching some part of the gospel to me.  Sometimes even the teachers would chime in, "Why don't you get your folks to take you to church? Take God into your heart and proclaim Jesus Christ as your savior.  Your sins can be washed free with the love of the Lord."  The first time I heard that one I told my teacher that I didn't have any sins to be washed away.  She just stood there in disbelief.   I could tell she was trying to think of a good comeback, but it never came, so it had been the first of many trips that I ended up making to the principal's office for blasphemy, although most of the teachers labeled it "disrupting the classroom."  Needless to say, by the time I was thirteen, the Bible belt had smacked me across the buttocks more than a few times.  It wasn't until October 22, 1981, however, that my entire outlook on God and religion took on a whole new meaning.  That was the night I stumbled upon the wishing well.

That afternoon I decided to walk home through the woods that bordered the junior high school.  Don’t ask me why, because I had never walked home through the woods before.   In fact, most of our teachers and parents made it a point to restrict us to the county road and playground adjoining the junior high school.   At that time the raccoon, squirrel, and opossum populations were still quite abundant and considered a reasonable rabies risk.  The woods themselves ran for acres and at the time they were still pretty wild.   With hindsight, I’d probably guess that it was my subconscious mind that pulled me away from the main road and my bible-toting school mates.   Anyhow, by the time sunset was upon me, I became so hopelessly lost that I actually expected to come upon a giant gingerbread house.  As it was, the wishing well was worse than any child-eating witch could ever have been.  Ultimately, that's where I spent the night until rescuers found me the next day, curled up in a tight fetal position, shivering uncontrollably.  But I'm starting to get ahead of the story.  The really important thing is what actually happened that night.

The sun was just setting over the crest of the forest's thick, entangled trees.  Its eerie orange light made half the forest look as though it was ablaze.  I distinctly remember that my spirits rose at that precise moment because I suddenly remembered that since the sun rose in the West and set in the East, I finally knew which direction I should be headed.  Unfortunately, my backward logic sent me even deeper into the forest and further from my home.  I guess I should have paid more attention in science or geography class back then.  Just before the forest devoured the last light of day, I stepped into a strange clearing with an old crumbling well near its center.  It was strange because there was nothing else around, no barn, no old settler’s shack, nothing – just the well.

The water hole itself was unremarkable.  It was large, about six feet in diameter, and round, but rough.  Flat, broken-edged river stones had been stacked atop each other, held together with some sand-based masonry.  White stones had been used at the top to form a distinctive rim.  A gray weathered bucket sat against one side of the well with one end of a thick fraying rope tied to its crooked handle.  The other end of the rope was hidden beneath the coils wrapped around the well's wooden spit.  I quickly tossed the bucket over the lip of the well and after hearing its splash I slowly raised it, hoping the bucket wasn't too leaky.  Maybe even more so, hoping that the water it returned would not be brown, yellow, or green.  To my surprise it was the clearest water I had ever seen in my life.  Of course, by the time I had gotten the bucket back to the top of the well, the moon was the only thing providing light, so really, the water could have been purple with orange stripes and I never would have known the difference.

Dehydrated from my hours of forest hiking, I scooped up two good handfuls of the water and quickly swallowed the tart tasting liquid.  The wetness felt good as it flowed down my throat.  It tingled too, almost as if it were water from the Holy Grail, healing all of my body's ailments.  As it was, the water must have been drugged with some natural sedative, either that or I was more exhausted than I had thought, because just minutes after drinking the water I fell into the deepest sleep I had ever been in before.  I slumped beside the well and used my book bag for a pillow.  Soon I was dreaming of things more substantial than anything I had ever encountered before in my entire waking life.  I dreamt of leprechauns and faeries, goblins and ogres, misshapen flying beasts, and creatures once dead brought back to the living.  I dreamt of gold and silver, treasure chests filled with sparkling gems, and battling pirate ships.  In the end though, there was just the wishing well, and I wished I could only have dreamt the nightmares it produced.

It was still dark out when I woke.  Although the moon was still providing some light, sunrise was only three or four hours away.  My body was stiff from lying on the ground, my neck hurt when I tried to turn my head, my skin felt wet and clammy thanks to an early morning dew.  To top it all off, I had a bad taste in my mouth.  I yawned and stretched a little before realizing that I felt terrible.  What I really mean is that I felt sick – the kind of sick you get when you're bedridden with the stomach-flu for a few days.  My head began swimming when I tried to stand, and I actually had to catch myself on the lip of the well so I didn't fall over.  I had never fainted before, so being 'weak in the knees' was a new experience for me.  I leaned over the edge of the well hoping that yesterday's lunch didn't try to crawl back up my throat and was more than thankful when it didn't.  Not thinking that it could have been the well water that made me sick, I reached down and picked up the old weathered bucket.  I could barely make a fist to lift the bucket and the thing felt as if it were full of stones as I raised it shakily up to the tip of the well.  I set it on the edge and then took a couple quick breaths to catch my wind.  I felt feverish, but I also felt extremely thirsty – too thirsty actually to care about anything else.  I swallowed hard because my mouth was so dry and then pushed the bucket with both of my hands into the depths of the well.  I leaned over the edge expecting to hear the bucket hit the water below, but the splash never came.  Instead I heard strange voices.

They were faint, echoing several times off the well's rounded walls before reaching my ears.  At first I thought it was my imagination, or maybe my newfound sickness, so I cocked my head to place my right ear directly over the well's mouth.  The sounds were definitely voices – foreign words whispering from a far way off.  I imagined a similar well on the other side of the world with several Far-East children whispering their innermost wishes. 

Sorry, I thought, Your wishes are coming through, but I'm the only one hearing them, so I guess they'll go unfulfilled tonight.  Then I thought that if I could hear them, then perhaps they would be able to hear me.  The words I was hearing were gibberish, far too faint and too garbled to make any sense of, and I had no reason to believe that my words wouldn't be just as garbled when they came out the other end, but I gave it a try anyway.

"Hello?" I asked, meaning to yell down into the well, but the tiny word came out dry and raspy.  I cocked my ear to the well once more.  My voice spiraled downward, echoing into infinity until my ears could hear it no more.  Then, suddenly, all was quiet.  Not just the well mind you, but everything.  The crickets stopped chirping.  Opossums, raccoons, and whatever other animals that had been crawling through the woods that night stopped snapping twigs and crunching dead leaves beneath their feet.  The occasional hooting of the night owl was also gone.  Everything was still.  I couldn't even hear my own breathing.  It was as if I had gone completely deaf.  And then, all of a sudden, in the dead calm, I heard a splash.  The bucket had finally reached water.

I turned my head again so I could look down into the well and I noticed that the rope which had been tied to the bucket had snapped.  About a foot and a half into the well the rope was dangling free and frayed at the break point.  I couldn't believe the rope was really broken, so I reached over to grab it so I could examine it more closely.  As I reached across the well however, a faint light, far down inside the well, caught my eye.  I stopped reaching for the rope and peered down into the well to see where the light was coming from.  It was really more of a glow than true light.  It was a darkly yellow-green, which reminded me of the glow-in-the-dark necklaces the vendors were always trying to sell at the carnivals & county fairs.  I stared hard at the phosphorescent glow, but I just couldn't make anything out.  That's when things started to happen – fast.

First the glow got brighter, and brighter, then brighter still until it began to hurt my eyes.  In seconds it had turned from a distant glow into a radiant sunbeam.  It was as if suddenly someone had opened the great door of daybreak in the dead of night to chase away all the evening shadows.  It appeared as though the sun itself was rising right out of the well.  I stepped back, momentarily blinded by the light and tripped over my book bag.  From where I now sat, the well now looked like a giant flashlight stuck into the ground – its bright beam spilling into the darkness, held back only by the little roof of the well.  It was then that the water hole spewed forth horrors that no one should ever have to witness.

I could see the light beam was being interrupted in places by something moving down inside the well, but I never really thought anything would actually rise into the night.  The first to emerge were two wormlike pillars of slime.  They were dripping with a mud-like ooze and rose quickly to the well's spit, sending it flying to the left of the well as they rose even higher, crashing through the well's makeshift roof.  They rose a good ten feet above the lip of the well before they bent in opposite directions, oozing over the sides of the well and finally onto the ground.  When they touched the ground, I was able to see the pillars for what they really were.  Each was made up of thousands of rotten earthworms, squirming amongst each other as if they were alive, but falling apart and oozing forth their innards in a hideous death dance.  I wanted to scream and crawl as far away from the worms as I could, but I was paralyzed with fear and my voice was still just a raspy whisper.  Once both pillars had deposited all their worms on the ground a transformation took place that's difficult to describe.  The worms and all their oozing parts joined together to form tendon, ligament and muscle.  Before my eyes a creature took shape resembling a pitiful skinless dog.  Bat-like leathery wings then unfolded from its back and reached upward into the night sky.  I could hear bones cracking as the beast grew larger and taller.  Sharp claws and long fangs quickly emerged.  Finally, a thick, leathery skin began to stretch over the creature's entire body.  At last I was able to recognize its form.  The dragon stood twelve feet high when it was complete and I willingly closed my eyes when its maw opened and its gaze turned in my direction.  With my eyes shut tight my hearing became even sharper and I shuddered with impending doom as the dragon released a guttural cry proclaiming its new birth. 

A strange, deep throated woman’s voice, powerful and commanding, rose from the well to match the dragon's presage.  "DREAD BITER!" it called, resonating from the depths of the well.  I dared to open my eyes upon hearing the new voice and saw that the dragon had turned away from me to crane its neck toward the well.

My heart was beating double-time and I was literally gasping for breath in fear, but I still took the chance I was given to retreat.  Forcing myself into a backward crawl, I never took my eyes off the dragon in case it happened to turn its attention to me once again.  I was able to get about ten feet from the well when the dragon moved its hulking body.  I immediately froze in my tracks.  It carefully wrapped its long tail around the well and then lied down lazily in front of it, almost like a faithful dog protecting his master's slippers.  When the dragon lowered its head, I noticed that there was a tiny squirrel standing up on its hind legs near the tip of the dragon's tail.  The dragon also took notice of the squirrel and quickly snapped its jaws at it.  Fortunately the squirrel was quick and the dragon ended up biting its own tail.  I watched the squirrel as it scurried back to the safety of the forest, and noticed that at the edge of the clearing stood a beautiful stag.  It was gnawing on something close to the ground, and for a moment I almost forgot about the dragon or the well.  A loud bray from somewhere behind me broke my awe-struck trance, and seeking out the source of the animal’s cry, I found that there were four magnificent stags, each standing at a corner of the clearing.

A loud, howling wind emanating from the well drowned out the stag’s voice and refocused my attention to the center of the clearing.  Leagues of ragged spirits were lifted from the well upon the foul smelling wind.  Their bodies were almost insubstantial, disappearing below their waists.  Several flew swiftly by, and I could see that a few of them had childish faces, while others wore ugly, twisted remnants of what they must have looked like in their previous lives.  As they escaped the confines of the well they separated and flew in indiscernible patterns around the clearing and above the dragon, each howling in a Banshee wail to match the noise of the wind.  I covered my ears and was thankful that they stayed high above my head, paying me little or no attention.

When the wind and noise finally subsided from the mouth of the well, teems of insects spilled out into the night.  Some were as large as my hand, while others were so tiny I could barely see them.  The air was filled with mosquitoes, flies, wasps, and other flying things that I couldn't name.  At one point a rather large beetle landed in my hair and I must have spent at least a minute swatting at it, trying to get it loose.  Other than that one beetle, the remaining insects left me alone.  Even those scurrying across the ground seemed to avoid me by several inches.

As the plague of insects abated the greatest horror of all arose sanctimoniously from the well.  Eight demons, one after another, crawled slowly and solemnly from the confines of the well.  Then they stood like flesh statues, staggered around the well, four to one side and four to the other.  No two looked the same, but all were demons sure enough.  They were all female, and none of them attempted to hide their sexuality.  In other surroundings a boy of thirteen may have been enraptured to see eight nude women for the first time in his life, but these weren’t really women, and fear had me in it’s complete control.  The first one on the left was ghostly white from head to toe.  She was totally bald, without a single hair on her entire body and her eyes were a solid white.  She stared straight ahead in a blind gaze that could have turned Medusa to stone.  The next one stood in stark contrast to the first.  She was covered in a coarse black fur, thinner on her face than the rest of her body.  She was ape-like in stature, but her mouth had been overcrowded with sharpened fangs giving her a distinct spider-like feel.  Her eyes were a multifaceted black that seemed to see everything at once.  The third demoness had wings.  They were leathery, like the dragon’s, but about half the size.  She didn’t have any arms, but instead had two limbs that were at least twice as long as her arms would have been.  Her wings were attached to the limbs and two grisly horns jutted out from where she should have had hands.  She folded her limbs across her chest and her wings covered her breasts.  She too stared into the night with dead, lifeless eyes.  The last creature on the left was a pale green.  She had darker green scales on her shoulders, breasts and upper thighs.  Her fingers were twice as long as they should have been, and seemed to drip with a sticky residue.  She had a long forked tongue that darted out to taste the air as she continuously moved her head left and right.  Her eyes glowed yellow and appeared out of focus, and I tried not to look at them for very long.  Those on the right mirrored the hideousness to the left.  The first on the right had a large horn jutting from her forehead.  It was more like a rhinoceros’ horn than a unicorn’s horn, and her skin matched the wrinkled gray of the rhino as well.  Her eyes were blood red, standing out easily from the rest of her body.  Her mouth was an oily black, devoid of any teeth, and clumps of tar-like cud dripped repulsively to her feet.  The second one on the right looked like a cold, dead corpse.  The only signs of life were the rising and lowering of her chest as she breathed.  Although I didn’t know how she breathed at all.  Her mouth was sewn shut with a thick black twine, as was her nose and eyelids – she was the only one whose eyes I could not see.  Her ears had been cut off and the remaining holes had also been sewn.  I tried not to look beneath her waist, but I saw that all her orifices had been sewn tightly shut.  I gritted my teeth, shuddered and quickly turned away from her visage.  The second to last demoness was beautiful.  Her hair was a reddish blonde that flowed down the length of her body to mid-thigh.  Her eyes were a sparkling green and her gleaming red lips parted ever so slightly to reveal perfect ivory teeth.  She was the perfect temptress for any boy’s (or man’s) desire.  I almost lost myself as I stared into her eyes, but then I caught a glimpse of something hidden deep within her pupils.  She didn’t have a soul.  None of these creatures did.  Her beauty was truly only skin deep, and like the others who stood beside the well, she would eat you alive if she had half the chance.  Of those eight fiends at the well I believe I feared her the worst.  The final creature was the epitome of repulsiveness.  Her features were grotesquely distorted, she had open sores everywhere on her body and her skin was stretched to it’s limit from the layers of gluttonous fat that it held beneath it. She coughed up phlegm and blood, then spat in my direction.  Her eyes held nothing but hate for all that she looked upon.   After watching these creatures crawl from the well, I realized it was not only my life that was in dear jeopardy, but my soul as well.  At wits end, I finally broke down and began to cry.

Although only minutes had passed since the dragon’s transformation, it seemed like hours.  I cried for my parents, I cried for my home, and I cried for my immortal soul.  Through my tears I saw that none of the ghouls had approached me.  Like the insects and spirits, they kept their distance.  They were all waiting for their queen.  My vision was bleary as she rose from the well.  I wiped my eyes and the sweat from my palms stung as the tears were blotted out.  I could see better now, but tears were still coming and I couldn’t stop the sniffing spasms that came with my sobs.  The queen pulled herself from the well in one smooth motion.  She was truly a titan.  She stepped directly in front of me, and I could see that she was at least two feet taller than any of the other beasts.  One half of her body was a charcoal black color, crinkled and pock-marked.  The other half was flesh-colored, tanned dark from wind and sun.  Her hair was black and long, braided down to her waist.  Unlike the demonesses, she wore armor plates that covered her shoulders and upper body.  She also wore armored plates over her thighs, and thick, black leather boots.  A twisted dagger hung from a leather belt she wore around her waist and she wore black leather gloves on each hand.  Her eyes were dark brown, steadfast and commanding.  Every movement she made emanated confidence and power.  She controlled all the creatures in the clearing, but I was the only object of her attention.  When she spoke, I lost control of my bladder.

Her voice fluctuated from a deep baritone of a man to that of a young child, and then to a raspy old woman’s.  “Ahh, such an innocent soul,” she said, smiling. 

“You’ve chosen a glorious night to wander into our clearing boy.  You see, we very rarely leave our world for this midland – only on very, very special nights.  You’re presence here is an omen.  You’re soul will provide my sisters and I with renewed strength.”  It was difficult to understand her when her voice changed in mid-sentence, but then I wasn’t really listening to what she said.  I was too scared.  I was hearing the words, but if she had asked me a question, there was no way I would have had the courage to answer.

Her words continued, “Perhaps even strength enough to crush that pompous Wotaan.”

“Be careful ssssister, he will hear you,” said the green scaled ghoul.

“It is too late, he comes even as we speak,” responded the fat, repulsive one.

A giant eagle’s screech cut through the night and the beating of it’s huge wings blew away the foul air of the clearing.  A man, a warrior with silver hair, rode upon the neck of the great bird and as the eagle landed in one corner of the clearing the man dismounted and walked steadfastly toward us.  He was only slightly taller than the queen, but his presence was just as strong.

“You spoke my name sister, so I felt compelled to come to thee.”  His voice was also powerful and commanding, but his had a gentleness to it that actually gave me the slightest bit of comfort.

“Wotaan.   This is our night, our circle.  You are not welcome here.”  The queen placed one of her hands on the hilt of her dagger and the demonesses all hissed in agreement.

The warrior didn’t flinch, “Come now sister, you’re not being very hospitable, especially to our young guest there.”

“He’s ours Wotaan.  He’s within the boundaries of the well, so he belongs to us.  The Norns have given his soul to us, so you can’t have him.”

The warrior grunted in disapproval, “By Mimir’s wisdom, the Norns had nothing to do with the boy finding this place, but I’m more than suspicious that you and your sisters did.  However, I’m willing to concede that the child’s presence here is just a mistake.”

“More than suspicious!  You self-righteous fool, you should be scolding Duneyr,” the queen said, taking her hand off the dagger and waving it at the surrounding forest, “It’s he and his brothers who’ve allowed the boy to pass, and now that he is here he belongs to us.”

“You have no rightful claim to this boy or to his soul for that matter.  Finish your ceremony, Hel, and then return to Niflheim.  Loki and Angrboda are waiting for you.”  Wotaan used names I did not know, but if there was any way to put even the slightest fear into Hel herself then the invocation of her parents names did just that. 

Her face slumped and Hel closed her eyes to think for just a moment.  Then she peered through the pupils of my eyes and found the spirit called my soul.  She gazed upon me for mere seconds, but it seemed an eternity.  Finally she broke off with an almost disappointed snort and then addressed her sisters, “The night is nearly finished, and Wotaan has spoiled the air with his stench.  We’ll return again another night.”  Then she turned to face Wotaan, “And mark my words well, my blade Famine will bury its point deep into the belly of the Beast.  So deep that even you will feel hunger, my brother.”