The Frozen Well

I found an old stone well in the deep woods on a bitter January morning when cold had settled in with no intention of leaving. The well stood alone in a clearing, its stone walls ancient and moss-covered, its wooden cover half-rotted away. Everything was frozen – the trees encased in ice, the ground hard as iron, the air itself seeming to crystallize with each breath. The well looked abandoned, forgotten, a relic from when these woods held farms and…

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