Ashes in the Well

They said she slipped while fetching pail,

A tale they told, so frail, so pale.

But whispers stir where no light dwells—

A secret sunk in Dust Creek's well.

The priest and lawman, robes and badge,

Held hands unclean, with hearts so black.

She cried for help no soul would tell—

They took her down and sealed the well.

Ashes in the well, water runs red,

Truth lies buried with the dead.

They built their peace on sin and shame,

And cursed her soul to hide their name.

She was the first, the silence spread,

Others vanished, left for dead.

The townsfolk prayed, but never spoke—

Their voices drowned beneath the smoke.

Sometimes the rope still creaks at night,

And shadows pass the lantern light.

The wind will cry what no one tells—

The names still echo from the well.

Ashes in the well, they call for grace,

Their voices stain this sacred place.

No sermon, badge, or chapel bell

Can hush the ghosts inside that well.

They knelt and lied...

Then watched her fall...

And built their heaven on that wall.