The Well - By Rameeshay Jabbar

Written By: Rameeshay Jabbar

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Rameeshay Jabbar presents a gripping narrative titled "The Well," a short story that captures the essence of suspense and mystery. Submitted to the prestigious Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this entry invites readers into a chilling encounter that challenges perceptions of reality. The story unfolds in an ordinary setting, quickly transforming into a haunting tale that keeps the audience on the edge of their seats.

About the Work

In "The Well," Rameeshay Jabbar weaves a tale filled with suspense, blending everyday life with elements of horror and the supernatural. The narrative is rich with vivid imagery, capturing the essence of an October evening and the unsettling events that follow. The story's mood shifts from the mundane to the terrifying, exploring themes of family, fear, and the unknown. Jabbar's style draws readers in, crafting an atmosphere of tension and intrigue that lingers long after the tale concludes.

The Well

Original Submission by Rameeshay Jabbar

The Well

It was a chilly, windy evening in October. The leaves on the oak trees surrounding our home were cascading down gently, creating a crisp and colourful blanket in the alleyway of our colony. The leaves beautifully covered the colourless and worn concrete pavement that we were so accustomed to seeing.

Our street cleaner did not seem to appreciate the beauty of the autumn leaves; every morning he would arrive at our colony and with a loud sigh, he would slam the rake on the blanket of leaves and begrudgingly sweep away until there was no leaf in sight. The annoyance on his face made it seem like he was cursing the trees for shedding their leaves, and he made a point of complaining to every passerby how difficult the leaves made it for him to sweep the street.

For me, the autumn leaves were strikingly beautiful; they were mostly golden with splotches of red, orange and burgundy scattered throughout, almost like a skillful painter had painstakingly painted each leaf to ensure each one had a unique colouring and pattern. I also loved listening to the satisfying crunch of the leaves as I walked on them, as it reminded me of my childhood when I used to gather the crisp and colourful autumn leaves and make collages with them in my spare notebook. I still remember my father’s eyes lighting up when I showed him my collages, and although he was not one to overtly express his affection, later in the day he came down to my room, patted me lightly on the head, and handed me a large bar of chocolate, saying he we was proud of me. My father’s pride in me drove me to always take my education seriously, and I worked hard throughout my school years to ensure I could secure a scholarship for my engineering degree. Now that I was in my final year at university, I was working even harder, often staying up until 2 or 3 am in the morning to do research for my thesis, as I was keen on going to graduate school for a PhD.

On this particular October evening, I had just finished making myself cup of tea, which offered me a much needed break from my research work. My room, which was located in the basement of our house, was an absolute abomination, littered with books, papers, and writing instruments. Normally, I would consider myself to be a very clean person, but the stress of the research work

was getting to me, and after long hours of poring over books and journals, the last thing I was motivated to do was clean up.

Thankfully, I was now in the last phase of completing my research, so I was looking forward to a relaxing evening, which consisted of watching a movie, eating some delicious takeout, drinking tea and sleeping (in that order). Cleaning, I decided, could wait.

I was so caught up in the excitement of planning my evening that I completely filtered out the hustle and bustle that was happening in my house. My mom was rushing around, overwhelmed as usual with my rowdy younger brothers who were refusing to get dressed, whilst my sisters were hurriedly brushing their hair and making last minute adjustments to their dresses and jewelry. I was just about to ask what all the ruckus was about when I remembered it was my cousin’s wedding tonight and we were all expected to attend. Momentarily, my mom turned her attention toward me and asked why I was still not dressed, as the wedding was due to start in an

hour. Just as I was about to express my refusal to attend, my saviour (AKA my father) arrived home and started rushing everyone to get ready, as the wedding bus would arrive in half an hour. He then took me aside and asked me if I would be ok with staying at home; I instantly said yes, and he explained why he was asking me to do so.

It seemed that a series of robberies had taken place in our neighbourhood during the past couple of months, particularly during nights when weddings were being held, as people would leave their homes uninhabited, creating the perfect opportunity for robbers to strike and steal without any obstacles. Thus, as a precautionary measure, the neighbourhood had recommended that at least one family member should stay at home whenever a wedding or any other event was taking place, as robbers were less likely to target an occupied home. I told me father I was more than happy to stay home and assured him that I would remain vigilant and take care of the house while they were gone. He smiled gratefully, and went to get dressed. Sighing with relief, I sauntered downstairs and decided to clean up my work desk before I sat down to watch the movie, which was scheduled for 9pm.

I had just picked up the last book from my desk when I heard a sharp knock on the front door. It had to be the bus driver, as it had been half an hour since my father had arrived home. I called out to my family, and one by one, they all came rushing downstairs, checking each others outfits and ensuring they had not forgotten anything. As they were leaving, my parents gave me a quick hug and told me to take care of myself, and my siblings, as per usual, stuck out their tongues at me. When my parents were not looking, I stuck my tongue out as well and made some hilariously scary faces, one of which frightened my youngest brother so much that he started to cry. Being the eldest sibling definitely does have its perks!

I quickly locked the front door and secured it with a padlock for added safety. It occurred to me how eerily quiet and cold the house had become without my family, and suddenly, I was overcome with a sense of loneliness. I decided to head upstairs and make a cup of tea to distract myself, when I became aware of a faint scratching noise that seemed to be coming from my room. Fearing it could be a rat or mouse, I grabbed a broom and cautiously walked toward my room, ready to strike the creature as soon as it appeared. As I reached the doorway, I realized the noise seemed to actually be coming from the dried up well that lay adjacent to my room. Oh God, I thought. The well must be infested with rats and they are trying to climb up to the surface! I quickly ran in to my room, grabbed the torch I kept handy for when the electricity went out, and shone the torch down the dark well. It was moldy and damp, mostly full of old wooden planks and bricks that were discarded during the construction of the home. I carefully poked around the debris with the broomstick to see if there were any rats lurking down the well, but to my surprise, I realized there was nothing down there and the scratching noise had stopped. Perplexed, I assured myself that I must have either imagined the noise or that it was coming from outside my house. I let out a big sigh of relief and quickly headed upstairs, as the movie was due to begin in fifteen minutes and I still had to warm up my takeout. I had ordered myself a spicy chicken pizza with a side of fries and garlic bread, which I had strategically hidden on top of the fridge. Somehow, whenever I bought myself a treat meal, my pesky siblings seemed to develop an extraordinary sense of smell, and before I knew it, my food would be devoured, and I was left

seething with anger. I warmed my food, headed in to the living room, and settled into the cozy armchair, ready to watch the movie. I have always had a special place in my heart for horror and thriller movies, so when my friend told me that Bram Stoker’s Dracula was going to be shown on TV tonight, I knew I could not miss it. I just loved the rush of adrenaline that came with watching horror movies; that feeling of not knowing what would happen next, the often sudden and grotesque appearance of the monster/ghost, and the ominous background music that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I just could not get enough of it!

About 20 minutes into the movie, I became aware of a strange noise that seemed to be coming from the stairs. At first, I dismissed it as my imagination, as horror movies can trigger paranoia and make you feel edgy. Every time after watching a horror movie, I would jump at even the smallest noise and I felt like I could see dark shadows lurking around my house. However, this paranoia would subside within a few hours, and I would become busy with my daily routine. I lowered the TV volume and listened intently. It was completely quiet except for the buzz of the electronic heater glowing in the corner. Giving it no further thought, I raised the TV volume and continued to watch the movie. Suddenly, I heard a shrill scream that almost made me jump out of my skin. I quickly turned off the TV, sprang up from the armchair, and looked around frantically for a weapon. I saw my brother’s cricket bat wedged between the sofa and showcase. That’ll do, I thought. Grabbing the bat, I stepped out of the living room and cautiously made my way across the cool concrete floor that led to the staircase. To this day, I do not understand why but I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that the scream had come from the well. Somehow, I almost felt like something or someone was prodding me in the back, forcing me to go to and see what was lurking down there. As I descended down the stairs, I thought back to the conversation my father and I had earlier in the evening and suddenly, it hit me. Maybe it was a robber who was hiding in the well downstairs! He must have seen my family leave for the wedding, and assuming that the house was empty, he decided to break in. Well, I thought, I won’t let him get away with it. I clutched the cricket bat and headed defiantly toward the well, ignoring the fear and anxiety that was brimming inside me.

It was deathly quiet and dark, and as I got closer to the well, I realized I was shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. There also seemed to be an uncanny sort of whispering coming from the well, but try as I might, I was unable to understand anything. Every fibre of my being was telling me to back away from the well, but I felt compelled to continue. I reached the edge of the well, and by now, I was feeling absolutely sick to my stomach with anxiety. Carefully balancing the cricket bat in one hand, I pulled out my torch and slowly shone it down the well. The whispering had completely stopped and all I could see was the discarded debris from earlier. I leaned forward slightly and poked around the debris with my hand, quickly realizing there was no way for anyone to hide down here. I sighed with relief and turned off my torch. Suddenly, from inside the well, I heard a laugh. The blood froze in my veins. I felt my legs buckling and in that moment, something reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the well. I screamed and tried to pry my hand out of the icy grip of whatever was trying to pull me inside the well, but it was all in vain. I had never felt so helpless in my life, and tears started rolling down my eyes as I tried not to lose my balance. I started praying, pleading with the Lord to give

me the strength to fight this creature. Just as I was about to fall into the well, I felt the grip on my hand loosen slightly, and with all the strength I had left in my body, I managed to successfully pry my hand out. I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing with relief. But my nightmare was far from over. There was an intense rustling sound and something jumped on top of me, pinning me to the floor with immense strength. I felt as if concrete blocks had been laid on top of my body, and I was unable to move a single muscle. There was a terrible stench of decay and mould and I became aware of raucous breathing that was slowly edging closer to my right ear. I tried to pray, but my vocal chords were paralyzed with fear. Suddenly, I heard the most terrifying and inhumane scream ringing in my ear. It was so loud and shrill that I felt my eardrums would be shattered, and within a split second, I felt the weight leave my body. I quickly got up and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could make out a pale creature facing the wall opposite the well. I wanted to scream and run, but it seemed both my voice and legs were frozen with terror. The creature let out a demonic cackle and DISAPPEARED INTO THE WALL. It could not believe it. The shock was too much for me to handle, and I started screaming uncontrollably, unable to come to terms with what I just witnessed.

When my family returned late at night, they found me next to the well in a terrible state. Apparently, I had fainted and hit my forehead against the edge of the brick casing surrounding the well. I was unconscious for a day and the doctor warned my parents that if my condition did not improve over the next 48 hours, I could go into a coma. My family was devastated, and spent most of the day and night praying for my recovery. I managed to gain consciousness, but I refused to discuss my ordeal with anyone in my family, as I was deeply traumatized and scared. All I wanted to do was tear down the wretched well, but I was afraid it would make the creature angrier. What if it killed me or harmed my parents or siblings? After some days of mental anguish, I took my father into confidence and told him my experience. His face was ashen, but he put his hand on my shoulder and told me not to worry. My father went out and brought a circular corrugated iron sheet and covered the opening of the well with it, bolting it shut with nails. He recited several passages of the Quran over a cup of water, making me drink half of it and sprinkling the rest around the edges of the well and surrounding areas. I felt a little relieved, but I knew this incident would continue to haunt me for sometime. I no longer felt safe in the room downstairs, so I moved all my belongings upstairs and bolted the room shut.

Many people wonder why we continued to live in that house after such a horrifying experience. I think I just made peace with it and moved on with my life. To this day, my mother and siblings have no idea what happened to me that night, because I did not want them to panic and pressurize my father into moving to a different house. I just told them that I had passed out due to the mental exhaustion of studying excessively. My mother did not believe me, pointing out the large bruise that stretched across my wrist all the way to my forearm. She suspected I had been in a physical fight with someone, but my father said that was not possible, as the front door was locked from the inside, and the front door was the only entry and exit point of our home. Sometimes, I myself question the events of that night. Was it real? Did the creature really exist or did Bram Stoker’s Dracula cause me to experience hallucinations? Then, I notice the faint, mauve coloured scar on my forearm, and in that moment, I know what I experienced was real.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is an esteemed platform for poets and writers worldwide. Celebrating creativity and expression, the competition invites participants to showcase their talent and share their unique narratives with a global audience. This competition represents a convergence of diverse voices and stories, offering a stage for both emerging and established writers.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Rameeshay Jabbar for sharing "The Well" with us. This compelling short story, featured in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, demonstrates the power of storytelling to captivate and provoke thought. We appreciate Rameeshay's contribution and look forward to more of their creative works in the future.

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.