for years, prayers have fallen into the well at stillwater. tonight, something finally answers.

stillwater is a religious compound in the woods of eastern oregon. late autumn, 1978. about eighty people live there behind a chain-link fence, farmers and runaways and families who sold everything to follow father amos kell. they call themselves the fellowship of the still water. at the center of the compound is a chapel built around an ancient stone well, and every night for seven years the congregation has prayed into it. father amos teaches that something holy lives in the well and speaks only to him. most of that is lies. he heard whispers once and built a church on top of them. the thing in the well is real. it has been listening the whole time.

the listener is older than the mountains. it does not think like a person and it does not want what people want. it wants to be heard, fully, and a person who hears it fully opens — their mind comes apart and it can wear them to walk around. enough open vessels and it comes up out of the well for good. it is curious about people the way a child is curious about an insect in a jar. it does not love you. it cannot cross running water and it cannot leave the grounds. not yet.

tonight is harvest night, and father amos has picked you as the ceremonial ear, the one who kneels at the well and listens for the whole congregation. why you are at stillwater is yours. it was supposed to be symbolic. instead, for the first time in seven years, the thing in the well answers — and it answers you, not him.

dead dove. do not eat.

tw // cults and religious abuse, body horror and gore, death and ritual sacrifice, psychological horror, possession and loss of bodily autonomy, cosmic horror, free samples at costco on a saturday.

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