Content Warning: there is a curse word in here!
Splashing wings on water from far below caught Jasper Pal’s attention. The old well in the city park was usually a desolate place that was dark and thick with trees. A squirrel would stroll by and a bird would land in a tree, but nothing ever comes near this well nor sits upon it. For the unlucky critter now stuck at the bottom, death wasn’t too far away.
Jasper could continue walking on by, pretending not to notice. No one would miss one animal. If his wife was here, she’d say other wise. She’d push him down the well just to get the poor thing out. He chuckled at the thought.
“Fine, you convinced me,” he says, pretending she stood there next to him, begging for his to help. He grabbed a rusted metal bucket tied to a frying rope and chucked it in. It clattered all the way down until it landed with a splash at the bottom. All goes quiet.
He looks over the edge of the well. The evening light didn’t help him see what was at the bottom. He could only catch a glimmer of something wet. Something with feathers.
“Come on,” he barks, “the well isn’t your nest.”
The water splotched as wings flapped. Claws click against the rusted metal as the bucket becomes heavier. He heaves the bucket up with a grunt. Putting one hand in front of the other until a dark shape formed, spilling over the edge of the bucket. He slowed, nearly stopping his pull as the head of a black rooster pops out of the well with a cackle.
For a moment, it looked around, confused. Studying its surroundings. Then out it jumps with a flap of wet wings and a long black tail twice the length of its body dangling down into the well.
Jasper pulled up the bucket and sat it back down beside the well, monitoring the odd dark rooster. The bird looked around as if nothing had happened. It was calm. Not injured even. Just drenched in well water from head to toe. Speaking of toes, the feet of the bird looked rather odd. It had not three but six toes on either foot. Two more than an average chicken.
With a chuckle, Jasper turned to leave. The chicken would wander back to where ever it had come from. Again, he could hear his wife’s voice.
‘Let me keep him, Jasper,’ she would state.
Pausing, he muttered, “Vern, we can’t. Roosters aren’t allowed in the city.”
Small feet scratching against the ground caught Jasper’s attention. He turned to find the rooster behind him and the well far gone. It pecked at the ground at a beetle scampering by, pulling its long tail through the dirt.
“I suppose you want to come with me, too?”
The rooster perks up and its dark eyes stare into Jasper’s blue. Then it flapped its wings and gargled a crow.
“Crow all you want, but you can’t come with me. Who would keep a rooster in the city, anyway?”
His wife. She would keep a rooster because she had. A golden rooster known as Gablock who also had a long tail that grazed the ground. Every time the rooster would come in from a walk in the park, it left its six toed footprints across the floor. Veronica would laugh about it, but it seemed like he always had to clean it up.
For a while, Jasper had put up with Gablock. He’d dress him in his crow collar daily to prevent him from being too loud. Changed his diaper when his wife was away. His wife was so obsessed with the thing that she even had scheduled play time and feeding hours.
He tired of it. So one day he called the humane society. You can imagine how that went. A lot of crying. A lot of begging.
‘Let me keep him, Jasper,’ she had begged.
But he wouldn’t listen and she chose to not stick around.
Not wanting to linger on the memory any further, Jasper jogs towards the edge of the park. And continues to jog. Passing trees, shrubs, and another well.
Wait. Another well? He stopped and looked at it. Studying its cracked stone and overgrown vines encasing it. Is that the same well as before or another?
He hears a crow in the distance as the dark rooster flapped its wings as it ran, trying to follow its chosen master.
“Fuck!” He turned and bolted again. Running toward the edge of the trees. He can hear the city roaring with people and honking cars, even at this evening hour.
He passed the well again.
Then again.
Stopping in front of it for a fourth time, he’s nowhere near the edge of the park. Can’t seem to find his way back except to this well.
The faint steps of the rooster pat at the ground behind him, followed by a faint growl.
“Let me keep him, Jasper,” a voice whispers.
His heart stopped. “That’s not Veronica.”
“Let me keep him, Jasper,” the voice repeated.
Jasper turned to see the rooster inches away from him.
It stretched its neck, took in a deep breath with a flap of wings, and the dark rooster crowed, “Let me keep him, Jasper.”
“What the-” Jasper started, but backed up into the well. He looked down into it, glimpsing something in the dark. Not the water but, a hand?
The hand grabbed his collar and tugged. Clawing it, He tried to set himself free. His breath quickening. It won’t let him go.
Gripping the side of the well, he pushed away from it. But it still hung on.
“Jasper,” the whisper sounds again, but not from the dark rooster this time. “Let me keep him, Jasper.”
From the darkness of the well, a pale face appeared. Her curly brunette hair cascading across her face, showing a hint of her hazel eyes and red lips.
Jasper’s grip loosened and, for a moment, he slid closer to the face in the well before catching himself. “Veronica?”
Memories flood his vision as Veronica’s lifeless body rises from the well in a sling. Drenched in water.
And Gablock? They fished him out with a long rope tied to his neck. His feather’s drenched and dark. His eyes were open and teary.
“Let me keep him, Jasper,” the pale face states. Then louder, “Why didn’t you let me keep him?”
Cackling, the rooster leaped onto Jasper’s neck, stabbing him with his spurs. He bucked, freeing himself from the hand’s grasp, and batted the rooster away with an arm.
Blood poured down his neck as he bolted towards the edge of the park again. He can see the sidewalk getting closer and his foot taps the concrete, and he’s free.
He stood there, enjoying the remaining evening light. Fresh air fills his lungs as he takes in a deep breath. People pass by not noticing him. Some are rushing home for the night. Others casually stroll along, deep in a conversation with a friend.
Wagging its tail, a small white terrier with brown spots on its forehead walked up to him. Jasper bent down and petted the dog with an enormous smile. “Hey there, buddy.”
The terrier licks his hand as a pair of feet walk up behind it, causing Jasper to lookup.
“Friendly - ” He trailed off, smile dropping, as Veronica’s pale face bore into him.
“Why didn’t you let me keep him?”
“Veronica I-”
She screamed. “Why!”
Something pulled Jasper’s feet out from under him and dragged him back into the darkened park. Sticks smack him in the face and he spits out a leaf as he flipped over onto his back. The rooster is pulling him. Not by a rope, but with its own tail feathers wrapped title around his feet. He kicked, getting a leg free, but not the second.
With a leap, the rooster jumped back into the well, pulling Jasper with him. He scrambles for the edge of the well, trying to hold on, but it slips from his hands. As he tumbles down the well, the tail feather lets him go, and he’s able to brace himself against the walls.
“Help,” Jasper yelled, sticking his head up out of the well the best he can.
The side walk is right there next to the park. It’s not too far away. Someone will hear him.
“Hel-”
Wrapping around his neck, the tails of the rooster chock him. He sputtered for a breath. Clawed at the feathered tails with one hand, feeling himself slip an inch back into the well.
But the tails pull harder and his vision fades. His hand slipped.
Not a sound escaped the well as Jasper Pal vanished into the darkness. Not a yell or a splash.
But a pale hand grabbed the side of the well, followed by a pale face and the crow of a rooster.
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