The Wells of Hell

by Graham Masterton

‘What do you think of these legends?’ I asked Fred Martin, who had been sitting quietly watching me read. ‘Do you think there’s any truth in them?’ Fred Martin scratched his grey wiry hair. ‘You mean the Atlantis stories? I don’t think so. From what I’ve read in my books, all my books here, it seems like almost every country around the Atlantic Ocean has got itself some kind of legend or tradition about Atlantis, or some place like it, and about monsters and beasts that lived in the sea. But as for truth? I don’t think so. They’re good stories, sure. Good old scary legends. But that’s about the length and the breadth of it.’ ‘Supposing I told you I believed them.’ He shrugged. ‘You can believe them if you want. It’s a free country. And believers never did any of the old legends any harm; they helped keep them alive. So good luck to you.’ He stirred his coffee solemnly, and then he said: ‘All kinds of people used to believe Atlantis was real. I’ve got a book up there about the Mayans. They believed it. And the Druids, too. And the Ancient Greeks. They all had stories about giants and monsters who came out of the sea and ate folks for breakfast. You know something – there are still people in Cornwall, in England, who think the magic island of Lyonesse really existed, and that giants lived there. And sailors in Scotland still talk about Shony, who was a sort of a sea-creature who called out that he was drowning, and needed help, and whenever a fisherman went to help him, he d...