00:00Something down there has been waiting all year. It just needed a voice to sound like.
00:06Behind Miller's pumpkin patch, past a scarecrow with no face. There's a well they sealed shut
00:13in 1963. I'm Tommy, I'm 11. Every Halloween we cut through Miller's patch. The pumpkins there
00:22grow big as wagon wheels. Mom always said the same thing. Stay away from the old well.
00:30The well sits in the middle of the patch like a secret. A round stone mouth. A wooden lid
00:37chained down. A sign so old the words are gone. This Halloween, my bucket slipped. Right down
00:44the gap between the chains. I lay flat on the cold stones and called down. Hello? My voice fell a
00:53long
00:54long way into the dark. Then, from way below, my own voice called back. Hello Tommy? It knew
01:03my name. I jerked back so fast I scraped my chin. Nobody behind me. Just pumpkins. Row on row.
01:13Grinning in the dusk. But the voice kept talking. Soft. Patient. From down in the dark.
01:22I found your bucket, it said. In my voice. Come and get it, Tommy. I told it no. I told
01:30it my mom
01:30said never. It laughed. My laugh. And said, your mom said that to me too.
01:38That's when I remembered the thing nobody talks about. Miller's little brother fell down that well
01:45in 1963. A sealed it the same week. I never knew his name. Until tonight. It was Tommy.
01:55Tommy. The chain started rattling. Not like wind. Like something down there was pooling. Hand
02:04over hand. Climbing. The wooden lid lifted an inch. Then too. I could hear it breathing. With
02:14my breath. I ran. I ran through the pumpkins and did not look back until I hit the road. Behind
02:22me, the patch was silent. But when I got home, my bucket was on our porch steps. Bone dry. Full
02:30of candy I never collected. Mom says it was a prank. An echo. The wind. But every Halloween
02:38since. At midnight. My phone lights up with one voicemail. No number. Just my own voice.
02:4611 years old. Whispering. Come get your bucket Tommy.
