The Silence At The Bottom Of The Well - By Ege Everek

Written By: Ege Everek

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In "The Silence At The Bottom Of The Well," Ege Everek presents a hauntingly evocative short story that invites readers to explore the depths of silence and its profound connection to human experience. As a participant in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Everek's narrative gently unfolds in a small town, where an ancient well becomes the keeper of memories and unspoken legacies. This poignant tale navigates themes of familial bonds, memory, and the enduring presence of silence, reminding us of the voices that linger beyond words.

About the Work

Ege Everek's short story captivates with its atmospheric and introspective prose, weaving a narrative rich in symbolism and emotional depth. The ancient well, central to the story's unfolding, serves as a powerful metaphor for the silence and memories that bind generations. Through vivid imagery and a contemplative tone, Everek explores the weight of unspoken truths and the legacy of silence passed from parent to child, creating a deeply resonant exploration of grief, understanding, and acceptance.

The Silence At The Bottom Of The Well

Original Submission by Ege Everek

THE SILENCE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE WELL

In the very center of the town stood an old well one so ancient that no one could remember who had built it, or when. Its iron rings were rusted, its stones weathered by time’s slow insistence, and its depth had remained soundless for as long as anyone could recall. No water, no echo only a steady, patient silence.

When I was a child, my father would gesture toward the well every time we passed it.

“A silence always has a home,” he would say. “People forget where they leave their noise, but silence never forgets where it settles.”

Back then, I didn’t understand him. I would run my small hand across the cold stones, stare into the darkness below, and wonder why it felt different from other darknesses.

It wasn’t like the darkness of a room or the darkness that grows inside a person.

It felt like something waiting. Something watching. Something that knew, one day, it would call someone back.

As a child, that thought scared me.

As an adult, I understand why.

I had left the town years ago. It carried a quiet loneliness, a heaviness that resembled my father’s own stubborn silence. I abandoned it along with the remnants of my youth, believing that the noise of big cities could drown out the memories I wanted to forget.

All of that ended the moment the phone rang and I learned that my father had died.

When I returned home, the town felt even smaller than before.

The streets had narrowed, the houses sagged, the people walked with an unshakable tiredness. Even the women my mother used to gossip with had become almost unrecognizable-older, dimmer, worn at the edges. Everything and everyone felt heavier than I remembered.

The morning after the funeral, I woke with a strange tightness in my chest.

It wasn’t grief alone grief is sharp, but this was heavy. A weight.

An unnamed pull.

I stood up and walked out the door without knowing where I was going, yet somehow, deep down, I did.

The well.

The square was soaked in pale morning light, and even the wind seemed reluctant to move. Birds watched from the rooftops with sleepy eyes. The well stood exactly where I had left it unchanged, unaged, untouched by the passing years.

As if it had been waiting.

I placed my hand on its stones.

They were cold, but not dead-cold more like the coolness of living skin, a subtle tremor beneath the surface.

I leaned over and looked inside.

Darkness, yes.

But not empty.

A darkness that understood I was there.

A darkness that acknowledged me.

Just then, a voice came from behind me.

“Your father used to look at it that way, too.”

I turned and found an elderly woman wrapped in a wool shawl. Her face was both familiar and unfamiliar like the blurry memory of someone from childhood, softened by time.

“You knew my father?” I asked.

The woman tilted her head toward the well.

“Knew him? Your father was one of the ones who could hear silence. That’s why this well never overflowed.”

“Overflowed?” I repeated. “Can silence overflow?”

She smiled a smile that deepened the lines on her face.

“Some silences would break the world if they spilled out. Some people guard their own silence; others guard silence for everyone else. Your father was the latter.”

Her words made little sense at first, but somewhere inside me deep in the place where I’d been carrying a quiet ache for years something shifted.

There had always been unspoken things between my father and me.

Not out of fear or anger just… weight.

A heaviness neither of us knew how to voice. A silence that wasn’t meant to be broken.

The woman took my hand. Her fingers were icy.

“I’m telling you this for a reason,” she murmured. “Your father’s silence is alone now. It needs someone to carry it.”

A breath caught in my throat.

And then a sound rose from the well.

Not a shout, not a whisper more like the very first syllable of a sentence that had never been spoken… a memory stirring after years of being buried.

The voice rising from below wasn’t frightening.

It was familiar.

It was calling to me.

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman said. “Silence will not hurt you. It only returns what belongs to you.”

I leaned closer, gripping the stones for support.

A warm breath rose from the darkness not like wind, but like the gentle touch of a hand on the cheek.

A father’s hand.

And in that moment…

I heard him.

Not his echo.

Not imagination.

Not grief.

My father’s real voice, soft and fragile, rising from the well:

“I’m glad you came.”

My knees nearly buckled. My eyes burned.

Only then did I understand: it wasn’t his body that lingered in this town it was his silence.

A silence that had watched over him, and now reached out to me.

I extended my hand into the darkness.

It didn’t pull me in.

It wrapped around me filling a hollow in my chest I hadn’t known was waiting.

A click, like something falling perfectly into place.

When I turned back, the woman was gone.

Even the wind had stilled.

The silence… had settled into me.

After that day, the well never made another sound.

Its darkness remained, but no longer with the expectancy of something waiting.

It had given away what it held.

What it guarded.

My father’s silence now lives in me.

The town is still small, still tired, but it no longer feels empty.

At night, the silence inside me trembles softly like a wind chime stirred by an unseen hand.

And in that tremor, my father’s final words still echo:

“I’m glad you came.”

I understand them now.

Some people leave behind houses, land, or money.

My father left me his silence

so it wouldn’t be forgotten, so it wouldn’t be lost, so it could continue to guard what needed guarding.

And as long as I carry it,

the well will remain silent.

The world may grow louder, but that deep, ancient silence…

will endure.

For as long as I live,

that voice

that silence

will live with me.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar celebrates literary creativity from around the world, offering a platform for writers and poets to showcase their talents. This prestigious event invites participants to share their unique voices and stories, enriching the global literary landscape with diverse perspectives and narratives. Through this competition, Hashtag Kalakar continues to foster a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts and creators.

We extend our gratitude to Ege Everek for sharing "The Silence At The Bottom Of The Well" with us as part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your evocative storytelling and exploration of silence and memory have resonated deeply, leaving a lasting impression on readers. Thank you for contributing your unique voice to this celebration of global literary artistry.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.