≪Just Some Horror Stories≫

Wishing Well

The Wishing Well is a scary ghost story about a troop of boy scouts who go camping near a haunted field. It is based on an old horror story by M.R. James called "Wailing Well".

Many years ago, there was an exclusive boarding school in England that had a scout troop. The leader of the scout troop was a teacher and, one weekend per month, he would take the scouts on a camping trip.

There was one young boy in the scout troop who was very disobedient and disruptive. His name was Stanley Jenkins and he was always getting up to mischief. No matter how many times the teacher told him off, he would never listen.

One weekend, the scouts went camping in the English countryside. They got permission to set up camp on a farmer's land. The spot was on a ridge overlooking a deep valley. The teacher warned the boys not to go off wandering on their own and told them that, under no circumstances were they allowed to go down into the valley.

While the teacher and the other scouts were pitching the tents, Stanley Jenkins and his friends were sitting around in the grass. They were too lazy to help set up camp. Instead, they went looking for some kind of mischief they could get up to.

As Stanley Jenkins gazed down into the valley, he noticed a field that was surrounded by a barbed wire fence. At one corner of the field, there was an old stone well. It looked like the field was never used and it was overgrown with weeds and brambles.

Just then, they saw the farmer who owned the land coming with his dog. As he passed by, Stanley Jenkins waved at him and the farmer stopped to talk.

"What's in that field down there?" asked Stanley Jenkins. "The one with the well inside it."

"That's the wishing well," the farmer replied. "But you're not allowed to go down there. I hope your teacher told you that."

"Wishing well?" said Stanley Jenkins. "You mean if you throw some money into the well, you can make a wish?"

The farmer let out a grim laugh. "I wouldn't know," he said, "That's what they call it, but nobody around here goes near the wishing well. In all the years I've lived here, I've never set foot in that field."

"What's the matter with it?" asked Stanley Jenkins.

"All I know is, the cows and the sheep keep away from it. Even my old dog wouldn't go through that field and neither should you boys, if you've got a brain in your heads. They say it's haunted."

"Haunted?" Stanley Judkins scoffed. "Haunted by who?"

"Three women and a man," said the farmer gravely.

"Who are they?" asked Stanley Jenkins.

"It all happened before my time," said the farmer, "but I was told they died in the well... or were found dead in it... I saw them once. It was twilight and I was standing on this very ridge. My old dog saw them too. They came out of the bushes and went crawling around... Four of them... Just black rags and white bones. It seemed as if I could hear their bones clacking as they moved. I couldn't make out their faces... All I could see was their teeth."

The boys let out a collective gasp.

Stanley Jenkins chuckled. "What happened then?" he asked.

"I don't know," said the farmer. "My old dog took off running and I took off running after him. So take my advice, boys. Steer clear of that wishing well if you know what's good for you."

With that, the farmer tipped his hat and walked off. The boys stared after him.

"What a load of bull," said Stanley Jenkins. "I don't believe a word of it."

The next evening, the teacher gathered the scouts and did a head-count. He noticed one of the boys was missing. After doing a roll call, he discovered that the missing boy was Stanley Jenkins. None of the other scouts seemed to have any idea where he was.

Then one boy spoke up. "Maybe he went down to the wishing well, Sir," he said.

The teacher's face went pale. "The wishing well?" he gasped. "But you were all given strict instructions not to go down there!"

The scouts followed the teacher as he walked up to the top of the ridge and looked down into the valley below. The light was fading and it was getting cold, but there wasn't a breath of wind in the air.

"Can anyone see him?" the teacher asked.

"There he is," said one of the boys, "getting over the barbed-wire fence. Do you see him?"

"Yes, it's him," said another boy. "I recognize his sweater. Now he's making his way towards the wishing well."