A Penny Down the Well: A Short Story Collection of Horrifying Events

A PENNY DOWN THE
WELL:

A SHORT STORY
COLLECTION

OF HORRIFYING
EVENTS

Written and Edited by
J. A.
Crook

Cover Art by
Georgios
Dimitriou

Typesetting by
Matt
Davis

Copyright © 2013 by J. A.
Crook

All Right Reserved

This is fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are either products of the
author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any likeness is
coincidental.

Do not reproduce this book.
Making or distributing copies of this book is copyright
infringement and will subject the infringer to criminal and civil
liability.

For Anais

TABLE OF
CONTENTS

DOWN THE
DRAIN

THEIR LAST
RIDE

A PENNY DOWN THE
WELL

THE WHEEZING
MAN

OUR SPIRITS OUT
WEST

PREVIEW OF AMID THE
RECESSES: A SHORT STORY COLLECTION OF FEAR

Down the Drain

“
So, what do you think?
It’s not, um—“ The manager of the shoddy, fourth story apartment
stalled but went on with his pitch. “It’s not so bad. Could use a
little work. This apartment was a difficult one. The last tenant
had a serious metal allergy. Weird, huh?” The building manager
scratched his sweaty neck.

Jared looked around from
the threshold of the apartment’s open door. The paint peeled from
the walls and the wooden floors needed replacement. He walked in
and the floors creaked and groaned under his feet. A cold must
filled the air.

The building manager
placed his hand down on the counter separating the kitchen area
from the living space. The tile rocked under his weight. He stepped
away. “And, you know, you can’t beat the price!”

Jared stood middle of the
room and looked over the space. He sighed and admit in a defeated
tone, “I’ll take it.”

“
You will?” The manager
asked with wide eyes. “I mean, you will! Alright, then I’ll draw up
the paperwork. Remember, it’s a six-month lease, but that’s not a
problem for you, right? You look like a classy guy. No problem at
all! I’ll be back. Acquaint yourself with your new apartment,
mister!” The chubby man trot outside into the hallway. He banged a
fist against the door of a neighboring apartment as he passed. A
thumping bass blasted back against the knocking.

“
Turn it down in there,
Matt!” The manager muttered as he continued toward the elevator.
“How many times do I have to tell that kid?”

Jared examined the
apartment. The kitchen was bare and dirty. Jared noticed that all
the faucet handles were plastic, which he expected of a cheap
place. It reminded him of building manager’s comment about the
prior tenant’s metal allergy.

Jared stepped through the bedroom into bathroom.
He looked into the mirror over the sink. Long streaks that looked
like baked flatworms ran across the mirror, each a few inches.
Jared brought his face closer to the mirror. A black line ran
through the middle of his reflection and split him in two. He
noticed a bumpy texture in the streaks that bubbled from the
mirror. He swept a finger across the bumps. A residue stuck to his
fingers at he touched the mirror, both clearer and thicker than
water. He brought the residue to his nose. It smelled like copper
or dried blood. Jared turned on the sink. A tapping sound rang
through the narrow metal faucet but no water came from
it.

“
No water.” Jared shook
his head. “Can’t stay here if there’s no—“

Water burst from the
pipes. A red sludge shot into the sink and washed away as clearer
water flowed in.

Rust
, he thought.

He returned to the
bedroom. The room was small and would barely fit a queen-sized bed.
The carpet’s edges were flat from traffic. White adhesive strips
littered the walls, arranged in squared. Jared assumed it was how
the prior tenant hung frames.

“
No nails.” He said to
himself. He touched a strip. It lacked tackiness.

Jared stepped into the
living room. A blonde, twenty-something year-old leaned against the
living room wall. The boy wore bright colors, highlighted through a
tie-dye shirt.

“
Hey, man.” The boy said.
“You moving in here?”

Jared looked past the
stranger and into the hallway. The neighboring door was open. Music
blared from the open apartment. Jared assumed the apartment
belonged to the boy in front of him.

“
You usually just walk
into stranger’s apartments?” Jared asked.

“
You left the door open.”
The boy said.

Jared looked to the boy’s
open door. He said nothing.

“
Just trying to be
friendly, man. I can leave if you’d—“

“
No.” Jared lifted a hand.
“It’s fine. Sorry. I’m Jared.”

“
Matt.” The boy
said.

“
Good to meet you.” Jared
wasn’t sure he meant it.

“
Can’t believe you took
the place, man.” The boy brushed the long hair from his face. His
blue eyes were bright and showed intelligence. His voice made him
sound stupid, high-pitched and erratic.

“
Used to know the old
resident here. Crazy bitch, you know?” Matt said. “I live right
there.” He pointed back to the open door.

Jared’s eyes followed
Matt’s finger. The constant thumping of the music made Jared
wince.

“
Why was she
crazy?”

“
I don’t know, man. She
just was.”

Jared thought Matt’s
response was typical of a young person—they knew everything about
the world and were too good to share the secret.

“
Well, I’m not crazy.”
Jared said. He tried to not sound defensive.

“
Hope not.” Matt looked at
the doorknob on Jared’s front door. “Anything weird about the
doorknob?”

Jared’s brow rose. “The
doorknob?”

“
The lady that lived here
used wrap a plastic bag around her hand before opening the door.
Told you—crazy, man.” Matt shook his head.

“
I heard she had a metal
allergy.” Jared stepped to the doorknob and examined it.
Normal.

Matt laughed. “Yeah.
Whatever, man. I’ll catch you later.”

Matt stepped around Jared.
The smell of pot wafted from Matt’s clothes. Jared made distance
between Matt and him. He stood in the threshold of the open door.
Matt stepped into his apartment and closed the door behind him.
Jared glanced to the doorknob again, turned it left then right, and
then closed the door.

Jared took care of the
apartment paperwork and moved in the few belongings he owned,
mostly by himself. As he brought in the large objects, like the bed
and an old Salvation Army couch, Matt was in the hallway and
offered to give him a hand to the beat of his usual anthem. The
music made for a productive mood, beating like a heart or the
hammering of a nail. The rhythm drove one foot in front of the
other until he was moved in. Matt observed the apartment. The
apartment seemed weird to Matt. Jared didn’t. The prior tenant had
a metal allergy. A metal allergy seemed impossible in the city,
like an allergy to the sun.

Jared thought the place
could use a little paint. He thought about HGTV and other “home”
networks that freshened up old places. Glamorous hosts would say,
“A fresh coat of neutral paint can make an old place look new!”
Jared hoped so. As he crammed the flat-head screwdriver beneath the
lip of the white paint’s lid, his phone rang. He stood, checked the
number, and tightened his grip on the screwdriver.
Emily.

“
Hey.” Jared said after
reluctantly answering it.

“
Jared, it’s Emily.” A
chipper voice, a stark contrast to Jared’s these days,
answered.

“
I know, Emily. What’s
up?” He opened the paint can lid with the phone on his
shoulder.

“
I needed to ask you for
something. I was hoping you could help me out.” Emily
suggested.

Jared paused. He took a
deep breath and shook his head. “What do you want?”

“
Well...” She paused. “You
said that you were going to sign the car over to me. I need that
done soon. Like... tomorrow?” The question was a little more
reserved.

Jared looked at the paint.
It wasn’t white enough. “Can I ask why?” Confused by the sudden
rush. They’d only separated a week before.

“
Well...” She paused
again. “I was thinking that since we weren’t going to use the car
for work and I don’t need the space, I’d get something a little
more myself.”

“
A little more yourself?”
Jared thought for a minute if they made cars that broke hearts,
sequentially smashing them to bits with each push of a piston until
they’re ground into mince.

“
Can you do it or not?”
She spit out.

Jared was quiet for a
minute, pouring the paint into the paint tray. He rolled the paint
roller back and forth in the thick, white mess and made her wait.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to just have her attention for a minute
or if he didn’t want to answer. Eventually, she chimed
in.

“
Jared?” Emily
asked.

“
Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come by
and sign it tomorrow.” And he hung up the phone.

Jared painted into the
night. He wiped away scars on the old wall and tears from his face.
The next day, he felt closer to losing Emily. He loved and hated
her. It felt miserable caring. He stopped when the music from
Matt’s apartment did and he went to bed.

Jared placed his wedding
ring on the small nightstand next to his bed and stared at it. He
thought about his five years with Emily and about their happiness.
His life went to hell. He remembered Emily confessing that she
didn’t the marriage anymore. The confession was sudden and
inexplicable. She “wasn’t ready” after five years of commitment,
and she “felt like life was passing her by.” Clichés. Jared could
do nothing but think that whatever was wrong was something she
wasn’t telling the truth about. The truth didn’t come in the face
of divorce. Jared felt like he deserved an explanation. Instead, he
stared at the ring that once shined with the promise of eternity.
Jared saw tarnished metal and he thought of the scarred walls
beneath the coat of white paint.

The next day’s sun came
despite it all. Jared woke and rubbed his eyes, but pulled his hand
sharply from his face as he felt a sting while curling his fingers.
He examined the rash on his hand and his palm and fingers. The rash
was worst around his ring finger. He looked to his nightstand and
noticed his ring was missing.

Jared leaped out of bed
and rushed into the living room. He checked the locks and they were
fine. He reviewed the windows and everything seemed fine. Jared
returned to the room, but paused near the bathroom. He noticed his
ring sitting on the floor near the vanity cabinet. He approached
the bathroom and peeked around the corner of the door’s threshold
before entering. He leaned down, finding his ring in the same
strange liquid he’d remembered from the mirror. Jared shook his
head, looking around the bathroom for any sign of what could have
happened. He shifted and looked back into the room, where his bed
and nightstand sat. “Did I knock it off?” He asked himself.
Maybe it just rolled in,
he thought. He looked for liquid’s source, but there was no
sign of moisture. Jared curled the ring into his hand and took it
back into the room with him. He dressed and put the ring into his
pocket.

Later that day, Jared made
it out to the old house where Emily and Jared spent their time
together. It’s where they fell apart. Jared sat across from Emily
at the table while she signed documents. Jared imagined the
breakfasts they’d have at the table. He thought about when he’d
cook if she worked early or she’d cook if he did. They’d laugh and
smile, share stories and hopes for the day. Thinking about those
days put a smile on his face.