The Well

by Jason Rice

In a lonely field

Behind the woods

Past a hill

Is a well,

A black hole

With a smell,

And something

You can tell

Fell

Is in the well.

It casts a spell

O’er hill and dell.

What dwells

In the well?

Who can tell?

What can compel

The shattered bones

The glistening muck

Of those who fell

Down the well

To rot,

Swell,

Then coalesce?

A squirming horror,

An obsidian gel

That propels itself

Up the well,

Who could foretell

This hell?

Your screams

Are your knell

As you’re dragged

To a place

Beneath the well...

Farewell.

(6/24/2019)

Jason Rice, jayrice32000@gmail.com, of New York City, NY, who wrote BP #89’s poem, “The Well,” is a 48-year-old culinary instructor living in Manhattan. He just started writing horror and occult-themed poetry about a year and a half ago (2018). This is his first published piece outside of school magazines and he’s very proud to be joining the great writers of Black Petals! [Congratulations, Jason, from the editors.]