text: It has just rained. Not too heavy and not too light either. It was just perfect. I roll the glass of whiskey in my hand and lean back in the chair. A cool breeze tugs and pulls at the fire burning in front of me. There is no noise except for the crackling of the flames. I look up at the night sky filled with stars. I take a sip of the whiskey and I feel it soothe out the fear and ambiguity of the past two months. It’s like the gentle touch of a lover, massaging my knots. Just perfect. “I’m not even going to wait for you to drink”, I say and take another swig. He chuckles, squatting next to the fire, as he plays with the wood. Trying to make the fire perfect. His glass of whiskey stays untouched on the crude table we brought out for the occasion. He is one of my oldest friends. We were schoolmates, college mates and kept in touch for the last fifteen years. He stayed back in Kerala while I explored my options abroad. He married at a young age while I zipped through relationships. He’s a family man while I’m still the eligible rich bachelor. And yet we remain the thickest of friends. Through all the good and the bad. It’s a shame that I’ve returned to Kerala and am yet to have met him. Which is why when he asked if I could come over to have a drink with him (albeit with social distancing) I seized the opportunity and broke the quarantine before you could say Jack Daniels. “You’re sure no one saw you?”, he asks for the umpteenth time. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Yes. Yes. No one saw me. You don’t have to worry about the police” I say in mock irritation. But I get it. He has a family and kids. He doesn’t want them to go into quarantine. Which is why we haven’t even hugged. Which is why he sits a good couple of feet from me. Which is why we are out in the middle of his vast estate and far away from his home. I’m not complaining. This is good. I down my drink and get up to pour another one. It is some really good shit. He makes an observation as I maneuver back to my seat. “You’ve gained weight” I sigh. It seems to be the only thing anyone notices these days. “Yeah ... I kinda lost the plot during the lockdown” “Doesn’t seem like you ever had a plot” “Hey. You try being a single man in a lockdown with zero cooking skills. It was either fast food or starve” “They don’t deliver normal healthy food?” “Not as fast as I would like”, I say “And not nearly as tasty” He chuckles again. “This wouldn’t have happened if you were married. Who do you think will marry a pot bellied pervert like you now?” “A girl who likes pot bellied perverts.” We laugh. It’s a little awkward given the space between us but it feels good. Like I’ve come home. My fingers begin to tingle. Man, this whiskey is good. He fiddles with his fingers. “You should have.... You know... gotten married before she...“ It takes me a few seconds before I understand. I nod slowly. He’s talking about my mother. She passed away two years ago. My father had passed five years prior. I have literally no family left except for the few relatives I lost touch with after my mother’s death. “Yeah, I know”, I say “At least she didn’t remember I was single before she died” He looks at me thoughtfully. “How was she ... towards the end?” “Alzheimers is a bitch. Everyone romanticizes it by thinking it’s just a disease that messes with your memory. At least that’s what we all think after Thanmaathra. What it doesn’t tell you is how the disease progresses, how my mother would forget to speak, forget to breathe, forget what pain was supposed to mean. It is daunting and she suffered through it. But it is what it is.” I’m surprised to notice I still have tears to shed for her. I thought I was all cried out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet her before she passed”, he says as I wipe my eyes. I laugh. “Yeah that would have been fun to watch. You know ... incredible as it is she still remembered to warn me about you ... two days before she died”, I say. He frowns. “Really?” I nod and wipe the last of my tears. “It was during her very brief moments of clarity. She looked up at me wide eyed and asked “Are you still friends with Radhakrishnan’s son?’” “What’d you say?” I remember the look in her eyes. “I said no. It ... seemed like the right answer at the time.” I stare into the fire. The memory of my mother is fresh in my mind. Her wide eyes as she said those words. *Stay away from him* “She never liked me, did she?”, he asks. *Be a good boy and stay away from him* “I never really understood why”, I reply. “My parents never wanted me to be friends with you. Do you remember how they’d fuss whenever we walked back from school together?” He nods. Which is interesting. I expected him to verbally agree with me. The both of us had never really forgotten how taboo our friendship was for the outside world. It was something we never understood as kids or adults. But when he nods, it feels like he’s finally understood. I sip at the whiskey again. My toes have begun to tingle. My body is extremely relaxed now. I look over at him and notice that he is still fiddling with the wood. His drink remains untouched. “You're not drinking”, I say and follow it up with “Wow. I don’t drink like I used to. I’m already slurring” He stokes the fire with a smile. “She was just looking out for you”, he says. “My mother? What was she looking out for?” I ask. “She always called me Radhakrishnan’s son?” “Always”, I reply. He nods and finally sits on his chair. His eyes remain fixed on the fire. “What have you heard? About my family I mean?”, he asks. I tilt my head, trying to recollect. “The normal stuff. Your family is one of the oldest to have settled here. All this land was once the property of an influential and rich Brahmin family. They fell into disgrace and your ancestors bought them out.” “Go on”, he prompts me for further details. “That’s all I know” He throws his head back and laughs into the night sky. “BULL CRAP!” he exclaims. “You know more than that for sure. After all these years you still don’t have the balls to say it to my face!” I grin sheepishly. “Your family is cursed or so they say.” “There you go!” He smiles “Cursed by the Brahmin family. You know what? In all reality - we just could have been.” “Oh please. Don’t tell me you believe that!” “I’m serious! They would have cursed us publicly when my ancestors took possession. I’m not saying that the curse is real but it would certainly explain the ill reputation we’ve had all along!”, he explains in a matter-of-fact tone. “Any calamity that befell us was explained away by the “curse” despite a purely logical explanation” This is clearly a rant he’s been holding in for quite a while. I make a pathetic attempt to calm him down “It’s fine! Just ignore it all” “That’s easy for you to say. You are not the one who’s been ostracized. No, don't give me that look. That’s exactly what we are. Ostracized. They may talk to us but it is always just formal talk. We are not welcome to marriages, house-warmings or any social events. We have no visitors over and no one spends the night with us. We have done nothing wrong and yet we are shunned. For what? A stupid curse that may or may not have happened. Oh, if only they knew ...” “If only they knew what?” He looks at me with a wicked smile. “You want to know why your mother would only address me as Radhakrishnan’s son? An associate of my father disappeared nearly 35 years ago. Around the time I was born. The people here have always made up stories which made him look like the killer.” I nod slowly. “Yeah, I’ve heard some”. I raise the glass to drink again. Real good stuff. “That and well...”, I trail off. He cocks an eyebrow at me as though asking a question. Something tells me he knows the answer. “Well” I say and frown. “Oh you mean that well there?” He points to the well several feet behind me. “My my ... you do know a lot more stories than you let on” My neck is tingling. That’s weird. I’ve had these tingling sensations while drinking before but they were always reserved for the arms and legs. Never for the neck. I turn my neck but the tingling makes it difficult somehow. I’m barely able to before I give up. I’ll try again. “That’s where they think his body is. Some people tried to bring in a court order and have the well dug up. In some ways, I wish they had dug it up. People would have known the truth one way or the other” he says. I try turning again. Nope. Weird. Maybe this is some sort of muscle relaxant based alcohol or did he give me a roofie ? Why would he slip me a roofie? *Stay away from him* His drink is untouched. “Why drink?” I ask and frown again “Careful” he says softly “You’re beginning to drop words” “Wha-?”, I ask. I’m beginning to sweat. I hear a faint ripple of water behind me. Like a stone falling into a well. The well. “Wha-you-do?”, I ask desperately. “The truth of the matter is ... We are not cursed. We are haunted. We’ve been haunted for centuries and it has driven us to the ends of our sanity” I’ve discovered that I cannot move. And my tongue is increasingly numb by the second. My body is relaxed. Like an anaesthetic has been applied. I begin to lose every sense of touch I have ... except for the rising panic in my mind. More sounds from the well. I cannot turn to look. But it sounds like someone is moving behind me. “There’s a woman in the well.” he says. I look at him wide-eyed. What did he just say? What is he talking about? “My family has known about her ever since we bought this land. We don’t know her story but we know she exists.” Movement behind me. Echoes from inside the well. Something ... climbing. Making its way to the top. A woman? No no no. Shared hysteria ? Mass mania? My mind races to explain this sudden lack of reality. Why am I stuck here? Why can’t I move? And what the fuck is coming out of that well ?!? *Stay away from him* “She was a remnant from the previous owners of the property. Or the owners before them. She’s been here for as long as the well I guess” The echoes grow softer. Whatever is making the noise is near the top. Please. Please. Let this be a dream. Let me wake up now. “We had to make some sacrifices before we learned that she was hungry. I’ve heard from my grandmother that she’d always hunt a family member and then disappear for a generation. One full grown adult would last her 35 years.” I hear the crunching of wet leaves. Something is walking towards us. Please, please let it be anything except a hungry woman from a well. “You know I’d almost lost hope. I was certain my father was the only one who’d been able to break the cycle. For the first time in centuries, a member of my family wasn’t served on a silver platter to her. He gave me the recipe for the paralyzing agent and I was ready to find some unsuspecting sorry son of a bitch I could sacrifice. But the lockdown was extended and with no one out and about - I didn’t know how I was going to pull it off.” He looks up at me with a beaming smile. The feet are closer now. I strain to see what horror lurks behind me. “And then you come along. Like a knight in shining armor. You are my best friend. But you have nothing to live for. I’d have some guilt if you had a family left but you don’t. It’s just perfect!” “Ffffoooookk y ... y ...y”, I struggle but my tongue refuses. He gets up and pulls a wooden log out of the pile. Without a base piece of wood the fire begins to burn down. “My father told me that the agent in your drink makes it painless and I hope he was right. Truth is ... I don’t know. She will eat you. I don’t know if she will kill you before or if she’ll eat you alive. Just pray that it’ll be over soon” He looks up and I see fear in his eyes. The last of the fire dies away. I look up at the star lit sky. It was perfect just minutes ago. Now it is a nightmare I am dying to wake up from. “I’m sorry but I have to leave now”, he says as he backs away. “I really don’t want to know what she looks like” He turns his back towards me. I scream furiously in my head. *Be a good boy and stay away from him Out of the corner of my eye I see a pale, thin hand gingerly feel its way over my forearm. Long claws and grotesque skin clinging onto its bony fingers as it digs into my shoulder. My eyes widen in their sockets as I learn that the paralyzing agent does not shut off pain. The hand pulls me out of the chair in one swift, violent and inhuman move. I stare up at the stars through my tears of fear and insanity. I hear my best friend’s voice one last time before I’m dragged into the darkness. “All yours.