We were young, and I always knew I hated him, but I couldn't quite remember why.

Perhaps it was because of the one time I had playfully tossed stones towards him, and he responded by throwing rocks at me...

I even yelled "Catch!", as a gentlemen does, right before the stone, a pebble really, struck him in the temple. It wasn't my fault, that he clearly didn't listen.

Ever since that playful accident, he somehow took it far too seriously, and would mercilessly throw rocks at me, whenever we were supposed to be playing nice. We were cousins, after all.

And our feud was eternal, for those two summer weeks we spent together.

Why my parents insisted upon bringing about Aunts and Uncles and Cousins, all to sully my Grandparents Farm, where we were supposed to vacation, I will never know.

But one day, as I was defensively tossing pebbles at him, when he was surely preparing to throw a rock at my head, he went to hide behind the well.

I circled around, certain he was about to pick up a large stone to hurl at my head, and the coward, and he was one, jumped to the other side, and fell down the well.

I heard a series of wet slapping sounds, and a plop

Haha! That's what you get!

I said it the moment gravity had taken him away, the moment he had fallen. The sounds had only confirmed I had vanquished my foe.

And I knew I had achieved victory, and I had to gloat.

You're stuck in the Well, and you won't ever get out.

And I thought about how my Parents and Aunts and Uncles would have to love me so much more, now that he was gone.