Day 609

It was at the bottom of the valley, by the brook where the mists never left.
Where the people never left.

The villages around it were the epitome of picturesque with their delicately thatched roofs and well worn horse-driven carriages. The largest and oldest well in the whole of Scotland was surprisingly less popular than its surroundings despite having a circumference to rival the average family home.

Still the occasional tour group wandered through ooh-ing and aah-ing at its densely mossy walls and pitch black descent. With the recently added iron frame above it they could even walk across. The only rules around it were one at a time to cross and never drop anything down there.

Things dropped down there had a funny way of coming back to you,often leading to your arrest. I heard one guy dropped a handful of pebbles down there and was found a month later in his garden back in America. Stone cold dead, pardon the pun, with a handful of limestone pebbles deeply embedded in his forehead and covered by soaking wet moss.

There's no way to prove it was the well but word spread so fast around the village it was added to the list they kept locked away in one of the chapels.

A while after that someone dropped a coin down there, a ten pence piece or so the story goes. Not two days later they were found in a hotel room in one of the villages having asphyxiated on a ten pence piece. In their right hand was a clump of moss.

No foul play found. Just another name for the list.

There's been talk of sealing the well shut for good after the latest. They aren't even sure what they'd thrown down the well but their remains were found scattered about their house like grotesque confetti. Again like all the others there was moss found, stuffed inside the heart, aortas tied like a turkey at christmas. It was the first case to have an actual arrest result.

Shame he was found dead the morning after with a smile on his face and moss where his eyes were.