Old wooden well

On the outskirts of the sprawling forest, where the sun's rays rarely penetrated through the dense foliage, there was an old wooden well. It seemed like a forgotten world, lost among the gloomy trees. Like a soul forgotten by time, he was waiting for someone who no longer came. Over the years, the well has lost its pristine beauty and grandeur. Its wooden walls were covered with moss, and the roof became crooked and loosely fitting. The water, once fresh and clean, has turned into a dirty, forgotten liquid, covered with green mold. In ancient times, when the tree was in honor, water was collected here for the village. Children ran here on summer days, joyfully pulling out buckets of cold liquid that splashed their bare feet. Now the water flowed in the well only occasionally, when the rains reminded of their essence. Deep in the night, there were quiet noises of drops, as if an ancient well was crying for its loss. There was a gloomy atmosphere in the forest around the well. The trees stood like sentinels, carefully watching the dead place. The winds whispered mysterious stories that no one wanted to listen to anymore. Locals avoided this place as a place of sinister power, and called it the "well of souls". One day, when the winds brought with them cold and rain, someone decided to return to the well. He was an old man who remembered the days when the water from him was clean and cool. He lowered the bucket into the well and pumped the handle for a long time, but the water he took out was dark and bitter. The old man looked around the well and sighed, realizing that the past years had done their job. The well could no longer bring joy and life to the village, and now it stood here as a silent witness of bygone times. The old man left this place feeling the sadness and melancholy that hovered around the old abandoned well, which seemed to have been forgotten and abandoned for eternity.