The dead dog gathered flies.
Maybel dragged the dog carcass by a foot. She paid the smell no mind. The carcass made a path through the freshly fallen autumn leaves. The leaves rustled, rustled.

Maybel, barefoot, made no sound. She wore overalls and a polka dot blouse. Her hair was undone, was a sheet of tangles covering her head. Her hands were rough and strong. She drug the carcass well into the back yard. There was a well there.

Maybel stopped at the foot of the well. The sun was above her. She could have seen all the way down the well, if she wanted.

Maybel took the dog carcass and raised it high. She held it over the mouth of the well. Her fingers opened.

The carcass made a shallow 'sploosh.'

As it did, a human scream bounced up from the bottom.