The Well

Somewhere, far from here, there is a well. An elderly man sits beside the well every night, from dusk to dawn.

Every thirty minutes he drops a coin of unfamiliar denomination into the well and he makes a wish. He wishes for the Lord of the Well to remain sleeping, to not rise up and plunge the world into a bloody age of fear and unchecked lusts.
The man is running out of coins.

Originally published at The Triangle. You can comment here or there.