Bumstead's Well

By R E Swirsky

The dare was simple. Spend one night down at the bottom of Bumstead's well. But Vincent's friends fail to return at the agreed time. Alone and shivering in darkness, Vincent Pattison reflects on his short life; how his mother ditched him at the age of ten onto his grandparents, how his Gram's dementia has worsened since he rushed off to college, and how his elderly Gramps seems burdened taking care of his Grams all on his own.
The Pattison family has hidden many secrets over the decades; terrible dark secrets that go back numerous generations. It has been suggested that Vincent's Grandfather's name is at the root of many of those secrets. One of those secrets just happens to be centred upon the very well Vincent now finds himself sequestered. The horror behind that secret and many others is about to be unearthed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R E Swirsky
• Release date: Jun 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9780987857460

R E Swirsky

Ray grew up in the small town of Kimberley in British Columbia before moving to Calgary Alberta to go to college. He has remained in the Calgary area ever since.OUTSIDE FORCESA secret vigilante organization named the Order has been formed to correct the errors of an imperfect justice system. Garrod Shaw, accused of killing his three young children and dumping their bodies in a lake has beaten his murder charge on a technicality. A Russian Diplomat, while driving impaired, runs down and kills a young woman and faces no penalty or prosecution after claiming diplomatic immunity. Both men are habitually dangerous and for the protection of all citizens, the Order believes it is time to remove these two once and for all.BUMSTEAD’S WELLThe dare was simple. Spend one night down at the bottom of Bumstead's well. When Vincent's friends fail to return at the agreed time, Vincent finds himself trapped alone and reflecting on his short life.WISH ME FROM THE WATERA young boy commits suicide. The town folk believe it was another result of bullying but two brothers discover the truth and decide to take matters into their own hands. A tale of abuse, shame and standing up for what you believe is right.EXTREME MALICEIf you could create the perfect murder and get away with it, would you? A young university student is charged with murder. His guitar string is wrapped around her neck. His shoe prints are left at the scene. Her earrings found under his bed. Her husband hundreds of miles away. The perfect murder? You be the judge.THE BLUFFINGTON FOURA time travel mystery about four students who disappeared in the mid 1960s.IN THE MIDST OF A PREDATORA very short psychological story. Bobby, a young boy alone at the fair grounds, finds comfort in a stranger who reaches out to him. Having the best night of his life, Bobby is unaware his new friend has something very different in store for him.

Book preview

BUMSTEAD'S WELL

BOOK ONE

CHAPTER 1 Late August : Nine Years Ago

Hurry it up!

But Mom, Vincent whined. He was only ten years old and had no idea what the fuss was all about. There were multiple strange people moving about everywhere inside his home. Some grabbed furniture and packed up trinkets. Others removed pictures and tapestries from the wall of the small cluttered two-bedroom house. Each item was carefully documented and logged before it was placed into a box. Multiple boxes filled the two moving trucks parked on the rain-drizzled front driveway.

Vincent! his mother screamed. I told you to grab your best clothes and get them into those suitcases. Now move it! She grabbed him by the arm and thrust him back into his bedroom. Now, come on. Let's go! He'll be here soon!

Who will? And why are those guys taking all our stuff?

You know who, Vincent. Roo, that's who.

I don't even like Roo! Vincent snapped back at his mother. He teases me all the time. And he punches me. Especially when you're not around.

He doesn't punch you. And it doesn't matter anyway. In a little while, you'll never have to see Roo again.

Huh? Vincent questioned.

Now stay in your room until you finish packing up your stuff.

One of the men from Randolf's Auction House suddenly hailed his mother, and she moved briskly down the hall to the front of the small rental house to see what he wanted.

Are we really supposed to take everything? the man queried. It was an unusual request.

Do you have the check? she asked, ignoring his question . Randolph said you would bring the check with you.

I have it here. He patted his chest pocket, reached inside with two fingers, and handed her the folded check.

She looked at the check and was satisfied. You need to take everything. Everything has to go. She turned and motioned to her two packed suitcases by the front door and over to Vincent's bedroom. Except for the suitcases. We are taking those with us.

The man frowned and looked over to the room at the end of the short hallway where Vincent stood hanging onto the doorframe with one hand and his mouth hanging open. What about the boy's toys and books in there?

He has his suitcases. Whatever he wants to take he'll pack himself. She looked over to where the man was staring and could see Vincent still had not placed anything into either of the two suitcases sitting on the bed behind him.

Vincent! You better start moving your ass! We're leaving as soon as Roo arrives, and if you're not packed, you're leaving with nothing.

The man spoke up hesitantly. You realize that except for the furniture and antiques on this list, the rest of this stuff is just going straight into the dump. People will always snap up the antiques. But people just don't buy these kinds of household items at an auction.

Randolph said he would take it all away. I really don't care what he does with it once it's out of here.

Okay, ma'am, he replied defensively. I just thought you should know. You really should take as much as you can because it'll all just end up going in the trash if you leave it. He looked down at Vincent and glanced at the toys scattered about the room behind him. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but shut it quickly. He shrugged and walked quietly over to where the others were busy packing up items.

Raindrops continued to sputter down outside, and the accompanying grey sky cast its depressing mood deep inside the home. Vincent tried not to cry. He spun around and looked at all of the toys sprinkled about on his shelves, the pile of books in the bookcase, and his many games, Lego blocks, and other toys strewn across the floor. There was no way he could get all off his clothes and belongings into the two suitcases. Was she mad? Was most of his stuff really going to end up in the dump?

He ran to the door and hollered, Why are these guys taking everything, Mom? Why are they taking all of our stuff?

She ignored him.

Mom!

Roo's on his way! You better make a move soon.

I hate you! Vincent shouted. He slammed his bedroom door. I'm not going anywhere! he yelled at the closed door. Especially with that fucking asshole, Roo!

Vincent could hear his mother's thundering stomps as she made a beeline back to his room. He cowered and shuffled himself a few steps back from the door. She burst open the door and grabbed him by the neck.

You listen to me, you little bastard! Don't you ever fucking swear at me! Do you hear me?

She dragged him by the neck over to his bed where his suitcases still sat empty.

Where did you even learn to talk like that? she said without waiting for him to answer. She released her grasp and shoved him onto the bed in one motion.

Vincent grabbed his neck. He forced a cough. You don't have to choke me!

I didn't choke you, she said quietly. She looked over her shoulder down the hall. The workers continued to work fastidiously removing all of the contents. No one seemed to take any notice.

Yes you did, he whimpered. You choked me.

Stop saying that. I didn’t choke you. She opened up one of the suitcases and began filling it with clothes from one of his dresser drawers. Look. You better put in what you really want to take because you are only taking these two suitcases. I'll help you pack.

Taking them where? Where are we going, Mom?

She ignored his question and pulled out a pair of long johns from the dresser. You want these? she asked with a strange and unexpected sweetness in her voice.

Mom? Why won't you answer me?

She stared back and smiled blankly as she continued to hold the long johns up in front of him.

Vincent scowled at her, grabbed the long johns, and tossed them off into the corner. He pushed her away hard and quickly rummaged through the drawers himself. He picked out his favourite clothes and hastily stuffed them into the two suitcases. He scrounged through his video games, books, Lego, sci-fi action figures, Star Wars toys, and various other objects too numerous to mention. Vincent picked out a few items and placed them in with the clothes.

A familiar gruff rumbling sound outside the front of the small house pulled his mom's attention away from watching him fill his suitcases. She turned and dashed out of the room. It was the unmistakable sound from an older pickup truck with a badly rusted muffler: Roo’s truck. Vincent’s heart fell.

He stopped packing and stared at the row of stuffed animals that sat along the long single shelf above his bed. He grabbed the one he named Bee when he was only two years old. Bee was once large, white, and fluffy, but the old bear was now ragged and patched. His left ear, attached by only a few thin threads, hung loosely away from his body. Vincent and Bee were inseparable when he was a toddler. Wherever Vincent went, Bee also went. At ten years old, Vincent knew it was best not to admit he still had such an attachment to an old scruffy teddy bear, but today it felt like Bee was the only real friend he had left in the entire world. He hugged Bee tight and shoved him inside the suitcase with the rest of his things.

Vincent! his mother called with an impatient tone. Roo's here! It's time to go!

CHAPTER 2 Day One - Friday 6:13 PM

The three young men leaned over and peered down into the abandoned well on the decaying Bumstead farm on the outskirts of town. Vincent rubbed his eyes. Even with his hands pressed up to the sides of his face to block out the sunlight, he couldn't see the bottom.

The well resembled every other well in the valley, but a terrible horror left its mark on this one many decades ago. Vincent's grandfather would have warned him to stay clear and to go find a different well to play around. Unfortunately, Vincent's grandfather didn’t know where Vincent was or what he was about to do.

Let's go, Vinnie. It's time, his new friend, Aaron, said boldly.

Vincent met Aaron only three weeks ago at the Garden Centre where he worked in the summer. If not for his cocky attitude, Aaron, with his short, ash-blonde hair and wiry frame, could pass for Vincent’s brother. It was enough to cause Roger, Vincent’s childhood friend, to comment on the uncanny resemblance, even though Aaron’s bold mannerism was in stark contrast to Vincent’s naturally shy and timid nature.

Just a second, Vincent replied. He stepped away from the well, grabbed a rock the size of his fist, and released it down into the well. All three young men leaned in to hear it strike the bottom. There was no splash. Just a barely audible, goopy sounding thunk.

See, Roger said and punched Vincent softly on the shoulder. I told you there was no water down there. Roger was short and stalky with a wooly black mop of hair that was always in need of a good clipping. Now hop up, and drop down inside onto the stool.

Vincent hesitated. He looked down at his feet and then at Aaron's. Can you give me your boots, Aaron?

My boots?

Vincent nodded. If I'm going down there, I don’t want to wreck my new Sketchers. Gramps just bought these for me three weeks ago. He'll kill me if I bring them back all muddied and ruined.

Aaron feigned annoyance and rolled his eyes. He knelt on the ground and began to untie the heavy work boots he wore while he laid sod. You really should have thought of that before you picked us up today.

It's just for tonight. You’ll have them back tomorrow. He looked down at his shorts and scratched at his cheek. Can you give me your jeans too, while you're at it?

You are kidding, right? He looked up at Vincent and shook his head.

It was Vincent's turn to shrug. No, I'm not kidding. I only have these shorts on. It's gonna be cold and dirty down there.

Aaron laughed. You are the one who accepted the dare, Vinnie. Not me. Are you going to turn pansy and back out now?

The dare was to spend twenty-four hours in the bottom of the well.

Can you just give me your jeans, please? You're about the same size as me, and I'm sorry I didn’t come prepared, but I wear shorts to work every day. Just give me your jeans, and I'll go down like I said I would.

Jesus, Vinnie. You are such a pain sometimes. Aaron was the only one who ever called Vincent by that name. Vincent hated it when other people called him Vinnie, but when Aaron said it he didn't mind.

Anything else of mine you want? Aaron asked sarcastically.

Vincent shook his head, rested his buttocks upon the top edge of the well, and began to remove his Sketchers and shorts to swap with Aaron.

Vincent hopped up and stood on the smooth, perfectly placed capstones that lined the top and looked down into the well where the rope descended a few feet inside the circle of stones. The small stool at the end of the rope twirled about in the shadows like something paranormal.

You sure it's safe? he asked nervously.

Sure. I knotted the rope around each leg, Aaron replied. You just stand on the stool and hold tight to the rope. I'll have you at the bottom in no time.

Vincent Pattison cautiously lowered his thin frame through the limestone-capped opening. He stretched down with his feet to the stool that kept swinging off to the side each time he touched it. He fussed with his feet until he was confident both were securely wedged onto the stool that was somehow bound by the rope Aaron wrapped around it. He then gripped tightly to the fuzzy hemp rope with one hand and the grasped the lip of the well head with the other. He stared down into the darkness below his feet. His heart raced. He squinted, eagerly looking for anything below him.

The rope lurched downwards, and Vincent suddenly felt himself dropping past the stones that lined the top of the well and into the dark chasm below. He grabbed the hemp rope with both hands.

Whoa, Aaron! Not so fast!

Aaron laughed and continued to feed the rope around one of the large poles that were stuck into the ground along opposite sides of the well. The two poles were all that was left of the small roof structure that once covered the well.

Vincent continued to drop in small short jerks.

Roger's shaggy-haired silhouette suddenly appeared in the opening above Vincent. The inside of the well dimmed.

How is it down there? Roger hollered.

Cold! he said sharply.

Vincent was wearing the same short sleeve T-shirt he wore to work at the greenhouse where he helped load customers’ vehicles with their purchases. It was nearing the end of the summer break, and an uncommon cool spell swept into the valley. The light drizzle that fell throughout the morning finally stopped and left the countryside moist, cool, and humid. Fresh goose bumps broke out and crawled slowly across Vincent’s exposed forearms.

I'm going to need a jacket down here! he yelled. He gazed into the abyss below him.

A what? Roger asked.

Vincent glanced up. A jacket! Or a coat! It's really cool down here! I'm not sure how cold it'll be at the bottom.

Do you want me to get your hoodie from your truck?

Vincent didn’t expect it to be that much colder down inside the well. How about Aaron's coat instead? he replied. I think the one he takes to work is still in my truck.

Aaron's coat was heavy denim lined with a thick layer of fleece.

Just a sec, Roger said. He disappeared from the opening above.

The rope continued to jerk downward, and Vincent looked about anxiously. He cast his eyes upon the dark stone walls, and the earthy smell caused even more goose bumps to speckle his arms. A misty grey light bounced off the outer edges of the moisture covered stones. The moisture worried him. He hoped this was a dry well, but the goopy sounding thunk from earlier now had him worrying.

The well darkened once again as Roger returned into the opening. I've got Aaron's coat and your hoodie. Do you want both?

Nah, just the coat. Give my hoodie to Aaron.

Roger disappeared again, and the well brightened.

The boys stumbled upon the well a week ago. It was a blistering hot week at work, and Aaron insisted they needed to cut loose and find a secluded place to party. It needed to be somewhere private where they could build a small fire and hang out with the flat of Big Rock beer he purchased. Roger suggested the old Bumstead farm along the river a few miles beyond Head Park. It was close enough to town, boasted a thick forest of evergreens and poplars near the river for privacy, and had many valleys, dips, and old building foundations to explore. No one would ever know they were out there.

Vincent discovered the well as they chugged back on beer and horsed about amongst the remains of the once prosperous farm. It was an odd, cube-shaped, wooden box, with two large poles protruding from the corners, that drew his attention toward the poplar trees near where the original farm house once stood. They soon ripped away the grey, rotted wood and the old, stone-cased well was revealed.

There was an immediate air of mystery that hung suspended in the night as the stones were suddenly suffused with moonlight when the boards were pulled away. The way it appeared to have been purposely concealed for many decades was disturbing. The boys fell quickly into fabricating dark tales centred upon the old well. A roaring fire soon followed, and the nefarious chatter continued as the last remnants of the sunset finally faded away behind the mountains to the west. Stories of disease and contaminated water morphed into purposeful poisoning of the water and ended up in tales of death and murder. Aaron told the most ghastly tale of the night. It was a horrifying tale of unwanted newborns being scurried away in secrecy under darkness of the night and tossed down into the icy water to silence their tiny cries.

As the hours passed and more beer was consumed, Vincent became fearful of the well. Glancing over at it as the firelight danced upon its rough exterior sent shivers up his spine. His fear was strong, but it wasn't enough to prevent him from energetically proclaiming that he wasn't the least bit afraid of the well. In order to prove it, he boldly accepted Aaron's challenge to spend one night alone at the bottom the following weekend. Even as the words left his lips, he wanted to take them back, but his liquor-induced pride wouldn't let him.

After a number of uncomfortable minutes of spinning in circles and jerking about in short spurts on his way down, Vincent felt a strange elation as the stool lurched sideways and the rope slackened. He was planted firmly on the bottom. He expected fear and trepidation to run madly through his veins, but he wasn’t afraid at all for the moment. He stepped off the old broken stool and his thoughts quickly turned to having completed some great accomplishment. He imagined no one had stepped foot down here for a hundred years or more. For an instant he thought he knew how Neil Armstrong felt when he stepped off the ladder and onto the moon. One small step for man, one giant step for...

But before he could finish the thought, his foot slipped out from beneath him and his buttocks and one elbow sank into one inch of slime-covered mud.

Damn it! he shouted as he grabbed firmly to the rope and righted himself.

You okay down there? Roger asked.

Yeah, I'm okay. It's just bloody muddy down here, that's all.

He tried to flick the mud away from his hands, but it wouldn't come off. He resorted to wiping the thick, pasty mud free on one of the legs of Aaron's jeans.

At least it's not full of water, Roger hollered back.

Yeah, right, Vincent replied unimpressed.

The well darkened even more as Aaron popped his head alongside Roger's atop the well.

You okay? he called down.

I'm fine! Vincent shouted up. He was annoyed.

Both Roger and Aaron laughed.

I'm gonna lower the other stuff down now, Aaron yelled.

By other stuff, Aaron meant the food, water, and fleece-lined denim coat, which was now stuffed inside Aaron’s work duffle bag.

Vincent stepped away from the stool and let go of the rope. Aaron pulled the rope and stool back up to the top, set the bag atop the stool, wrapped it within the rope, and lowered both back down to Vincent. It was very dark at the bottom of the well and Vincent fumbled with the knots a few moments before he was able to remove the bag. He placed the bag onto the muddy surface in a spot he thought was the driest, but it was difficult to tell if there even was such a thing as a dry spot in this pit. He quickly removed Aaron's coat from inside the bag and slipped it on.

Suddenly, without warning, the rope tightened and the stool lurched upwards a few inches from the bottom.

Hey! What the hell? Vincent shouted. He grabbed at the rope with both hands and jumped onto the stool before Aaron could pull it up any higher. Immediately Aaron stopped pulling on the rope and tucked his head into the opening.

No stool, Vinnie! Aaron shouted down. You are only allowed clothes, food, and water.

C'mon! I didn’t know it was going to be this muddy down here. Please, Aaron! Leave the stool!

No stool. You agreed to the terms. Now let go of the rope.

No! He remained standing on the stool as it spun around in circles suspended four inches above the bottom. Roger, talk to Aaron. We didn’t know it was going to be this muddy down here. What am I supposed to do, sit in the mud all night? Leave the stool down here. Please, Aaron.

Just a sec. Roger and Aaron laughed and disappeared. A few minutes passed by before the two heads popped back into view.

Okay. You can have the stool, but no rope.

What? No rope?

No rope. Get off the stool and untie it, Aaron demanded.

No way!

Untie the rope or I'm going to untie this end up here and drop the entire rope down inside.

No! Don't do that! C'mon already you guys! What do you think I'm going to do? Climb up the rope if you leave it there?

Roger said something that made Aaron laugh, but Vincent couldn't make out the words. The two disappeared again for a few moments.

Okay, you win, Aaron said as he loosened the rope and the stool dropped down and sunk into the mud. You can keep the rope and the stool.

I've seen you in gym class, and you certainly can't climb a rope, Roger added.

Ha, Ha. Very funny, Vincent replied, but he knew it was true.

We'll tie it off up here to the pole. And don't you dare get my coat dirty down there, Aaron called down as he donned Vincent's hoodie.

Vincent eyed where he rubbed the mud on the jeans, and even in the darkness, he could see more already mashed deep into the shoulder of Aaron's coat. He had only just put it on. There was no way anything was going to stay clean down here.

I'll try to keep it clean.

You better! Aaron shouted.

Two flashes lit up the inside of the well. The two boys began to snicker uncontrollably. Look at the poor boy trapped down in the well! How will we ever get him out?

Is that my phone? Aaron? That better not be my phone!

Roger stuck his head deep inside the well. It is, and he just posted the photos onto your Facebook page!

He did not! Vincent cried out.

He did! I saw him! Roger said.

Aaron cackled again. You'll have to wait and see now, won't you? Little boy in the well. Another flash lit the space around Vincent.

Fuck you, Aaron! he said. He thrust a finger upwards and pointed at Aaron. You're dead if you post that!

Scared your girlfriend might see it? he replied. Oh that's right: you don't have a girlfriend. He laughed again.

I do too! Vincent shouted, but he knew it was a lie. He didn’t have the courage to ask her out yet, and it weighed heavily on his mind since he arrived home from University for the summer.

Who? This Anna girl from British Columbia you talk about? You don't even have a picture of her.

So? That doesn't mean she isn't real.

Little lost boy in the well! Aaron taunted again. Look at the little lost boy in the well! The banter continued for the next hour as the sun slowly receded even further behind the mountains.

CHAPTER 3 Day One - Friday 8:47 PM

Amy Gardwinder was in a very bad mood, but it wasn't due to the delay from picking up her new truck and semi-trailer. The small white Sentra that pulled out in front of her just shortly after she turned onto highway 63 more than an hour ago had her blood boiling.

Tonight was Friday, her son's 10th birthday, and she desperately wanted to make it back home to the acreage on the outskirts of Bluffington for his party. She already accepted that she'd have to go back into Calgary on Monday to unload her cargo, but until the Sentra pulled in front of her, she was confident she would be home in time to catch most of her son's party.

It was a management decision to purchase all new trucks that ran on Compress Natural Gas (CNG) instead of the usual diesel fuel. As far as Amy was concerned, there was nothing wrong with her old truck, and she really didn't give a second thought to this new rig.

The CNG will save the company thousands of dollars in fuel each month, and it just makes economic sense, she was told. New filling stations were popping up at various locations across North America, and Calgary just received its first at the Flying J Truck Stop only blocks away from the trailer compound.

She was far behind her usual schedule tonight hauling the fully-loaded twenty-two tons of water purification tanks