Chapter Text
~October 31st 1880~
The wind bellowed as the old hunters yelled. Unnatural shades of green, pink, and blue flashing as men were thrown around the swirling empty-looking hole in the ground. Despite how it seemed though, that hole definitely wasn't empty. Screams emanating from the hole as men were dragged in by their ankles with spindly blue-grey fingers. If the hunters felt bad for bringing innocent townspeople into this... problem, they didn't show it as they trudged through the foggy mess of blood and fluorescent lights. To the hunters, the being inside of this hole was more important to contain then the lives of the innocent shop owners where to keep.
One miss Molly Rose was very heavily pregnant that day, that fateful day when the eldrich flesh eating monster burst out of its cocoon in the earth and terrorized this Georgian small town. As she ran to find cover from the seemingly hundreds of long arms coming through the earth all she could think of was if her unborn baby girl would be all right, but much like all the other times when he gets in trouble miss Mary Rose fails to notice one single person.
Her eldest son, Alexander, was one of the many men fighting against the murderous entity inside of the empty-looking hole. Many of the other hunters fighting against the monster blame him for it because he was trying to build a well in that spot at the time the monster woke, but it was all just a sick coincidence. Alexander was a member of a secret society of people that hunt, fight and capture supernatural beings such as the one terrorizing these people. The young hunter ran around the hole with a bucket of candles and an old worn book, placing the candles in little dug-out dips in the earth while avoiding the hundreds of long hands. He is fully aware of how dangerous it is to do this, but still trudges through the blood soaked grass placing candles. He needs to prove to his fellow hunters that this wasn't his fault.
Many people don't know, but ghost hunters are extremely mean. They are practically heartless, taking advantage of poor wandering souls and hunting any and all things that aren't "normal" in their eyes. But poor Alexander doesn't know this, all he wants is to be accepted somewhere other than school. He lights the last candle and starts speaking out the ancient spell to seal the terrifying beast back in the earth;
"hoc carmine loquor ut vetera rursus in terris capiam mea signa potestatem"
The ground starts to shake
"hoc carmine loquor ut vetera rursus in terris signa capiam magicam"
The hands freeze in place
"hoc carmen dum loquor, antiquam in terra remitto robur"
Alexander falls to he's knees, out of breath
"dum hoc carmen loquor, veterem rursus in terris accipe vitam"
With this final sentence of the spell, the wind starts howling even harder than before, all at once the hands start racing back towards the hole in the ground. A gruesome screaming noise comes from somewhere near the hole as a flickering purple light shines up towards the sky. The townspeople don't understand that the light comes from a large fire that encased Alexander through the tall grass. Alexander screams as the fire nips at his skin and clothes. The hole starts to close as the wind calms down, but the screams don't. Alexander stands there as the supernatural purple flames tear at his skin, he knows he doesn't have much time left. He needs to sacrifice himself for the hole to close up and he knows it. He falls to his knees as every bit of his skin burns off, being on fire will do that to someone, letting out one final torturous scream as the sky clears up and the wind stops blowing.
~July 12th 1987~
It looks as if nothing ever happened, the only memory of this event left is the now fully-made well sitting in the middle of the cemetery. On the edge of the well is a bronze plaque with the entails "A.J.W" on them. Other than this memorial no one seems to remember the late 15 year old that saved the small town for the price of his own life, other than one four year old Jesse Williamson who swears the well is haunted.
And well...
He isn't wrong.
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738 words
Published March 22, 2022