A few summers ago, my then-girlfriend Taylor was taking a photography class at the local community college. She was looking to turn it into a sort of business, mostly wedding and school events. If everything worked out, she’d be looking at a side gig in a couple of weeks for the local high school. Prom night.
But first, she needed a whole bunch of reference photos. Sure, she had portraits and such, but little to no environmental shots. So with a few friends and other photography enthusiasts, we set out to do a little urban exploring to find something neat for a shoot. Taylor had a few suggestions.
Now, when I say urban exploring, you gotta consider that we live in this shitty little Minnesota town in the middle of nowhere. Urban exploring for us is finding an abandoned barn, or some kind of summer house that no one’s been in for a couple generations.
So a whole bunch of us set out, making a bit of a road trip out of it. There was me, of course, and my significant other; Taylor. There was Avi, a guy from her photography class. Finally, there was Leslie. In the same way that Taylor was looking to make a side career out of her photography, Leslie was looking to make some extra cash on her modeling.
We all squeezed into my Nissan and took the roads less traveled; looking for any and all interesting locations.
We stopped at a few places along the road. There was an old barn, but the place had been cleaned out to the point where you couldn’t really tell what it was supposed to be. The missing planks in the wall made for some interesting lightning though. I was on “setup duty”, meaning I carried around the heavy equipment borrowed from the class. A lighting screen, an external flash, timers, spare batteries, a laptop… the stuff that was awkward to carry.
We got a few good shots, and most of us were ready to call it a day. It was Taylor’s suggestion that we take the scenic route back just in case we spotted something fun. The sun was setting, but with the equipment we had we could probably get some cool high-contrast night photos for Leslie’s Instagram.
Going down several overgrown dirt roads, we ended up at what looked like an old house. One of those cheap pre-fabs from the 70’s; the kind with paper-thin walls and roof tiles that blew off at the slightest touch of wind. The fake wooden wall panels really were the cherry on top.
We got out, looking the place over. Taylor turned to us, talking like a game show host.
“I’m betting there’s at least one tacky thrift store painting in there,” she laughed. “Ten bucks. Any takers?”
“No,” said Avi, shaking his head. “I like my money.”
Leslie was already looking for interesting props to be photographed with. I was too busy getting the equipment out. Taylor didn’t have to look for long before she found what she was looking for; a cheap little thrift store paining hung in the middle of the living room. She spent some time in there, turning that painting over, looking to see if it was worth something besides the frame. She loudly proclaimed it to be hers, and that it was not to be touched.
I took a walk down the side of the house, checking out the back yard. There was an overgrown flowerbed, a destroyed tool shed, and plenty of rusted-out tools and spare metal pipes. You could tell whoever had lived there had been looking to make something of the place, but the abandoned scaffolding told another story.
There were the remnants of an old garden, along with a little chicken coop. Then there was a well.
And that caught my attention.
It wasn’t just any well; it was much older than the rest of the property. The ground around it was littered in dead sunflowers and blue petals; seemingly untouched by nature. The layer of dirt was so old that I genuinely couldn’t picture the original color of the stonework. The well itself was sp,e old school kind of masonry, sturdy enough to last another century or so. There was also a little roof over it, and the pièce de résistance – a bell.
This thing was completely black. I thought it was from grime and dirt at first, but running my finger across it I realized it was clean as a whistle. The black was just that; color. I’d never seen that kind of metal before. It was much lighter than the usual bronze.
I called the others over. As soon as they saw it, I could see the smiles creeping across their faces. This thing was something special. Something to be photographed.
“Yeah, we’re shooting it,” said Taylor.” Les, I’m gonna need you on the side there. You good to sit?”
“Gotta wash this stuff anyway,” she sighed. “We’re done after this though, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” nodded Taylor. “Babe, you got the reflector?”
“Got it,” I nodded. “You’re going two-point or three-point?”
“Let’s start with one-point,” said Taylor, tuning the settings on her camera. “Let’s make it intense, yeah?”
As she twisted and turned the various dials, Avi was setting up a setup of his own. His camera was much nicer, but he didn’t have all the peripheral equipment. Then again, neither did we, really. It was all borrowed.
Leslie sat on the edge of the well, looking down. She sighed, thinking out loud.
“This thing is deep,” she said. “Real deep.”
“It’s a well,” chuckled Avi. “It’s supposed to be.”
“No, but I- never mind.”
As Leslie turned her attention back to Avi and his camera, Taylor’s curiosity got the better of her. She pulled the rope on the bell. I expected a faint, dirt-covered clang, but there was absolutely nothing. Not the slightest vibration.
No one seemed to notice. It wasn’t even dulled; it just had no sound at all. I poked my ear a little, just to make sure I wasn’t missing something. Neither Taylor nor Leslie seemed too bothered by it. Avi, on the other hand, grimaced.
“Would you cut that out?” he asked. “Damn.”
“Cut what out?” asked Taylor.
“The bell. Give it a rest.”
Taylor looked at him with a genuine curiosity, then she turned to me. I just shrugged. She stopped playing with the bell as I finished my setup.
We spent some time just trying out a couple settings and having Leslie pose for a bit. Despite us having explicitly asked Leslie to come along for this ride, I could tell there was some tension between her and Taylor. I’d definitely be hearing about it later that night.
As the sun set and we finished our shoot, Avi started packing things back into the car. I stayed behind to check out the photos with Taylor, giving some feedback on her ideas and helping her pick out some favorites. Leslie added some opinions to the mix as well, but she mostly just wanted to showcase the pictures who showed the most leg. She was really proud of those legs.
While Taylor and Leslie got into an argument about focus length, I decided to move the laptop and some of the remaining equipment back to the car.
I could hear them all the way from the back yard, using that “we’re fighting but not really fighting” kind of voices. The ones where they’re quick to tell each other how much they value their opinions, while simultaneously disregarding them. Avi was being curiously quiet though.
Rounding the corner, it became apparent why.
He was gone.
The car just stood there, doors wide open. All the equipment was loaded in, but it was as if he’d left in a hurry. Looking around, where was no obvious trail left behind. The road out of there was straight and clear – if he’d gone down it, I would’ve seen him. It was strange, to say the least. Trying to rationalize it, I figured he might’ve gone to take a piss.
But as the minutes started to rack up, it was getting clearer and clearer that he wasn’t around anymore. He’d gone somewhere, suddenly, much like the original owner of the property.
Then I realized something.
He had the car keys.
Coming back to the others, I couldn’t help but to feel the tension brewing in the air.
“We ready?” Leslie asked. “I think we’re done here.”
“I can’t find Avi,” I said. “He’s not by the car.”
“One sec.”
Taylor picked up her phone and gave Avi a call. It went straight to voice mail. She turned to me, shaking her head.
“Let’s give him a minute,” she said. “Let’s check out the house.”
We did as she asked, taking a stroll within the mildew-infested house. Moth-eaten drapes hanging on for dear life, barely covering the broken windows. Raw wooden floors that buckled a little more than I was comfortable with. A couch missing three legs and all but one cushion, right next to the broken frame of a loveseat. A single thrift store painting clung to the wall, picturing what looked like a wooden bucket of discolored sunflowers.
“So how long are we waiting before we just… go?” asked Leslie. “If he wanted a ride he shouldn’t have wandered off.”
“He has the keys,” I added.
“What?”
“He was packing the car,” I explained. “So he has the keys”.
“Fuckit,” Leslie sighed, “I’m calling an uber.”
She couldn’t get the GPS function to work, so we were having difficulties giving directions. Furthermore, reception was just terrible. Calls would go through, but they kept dropping randomly. It’s as if the bars swung back and forth between perfect and barely available.
As the minutes passed into an hour, with no sign or response from Avi, we were turning from annoyed to concerned. Without any kind of light, and as far from the city as we were, it was starting to get pitch black. Even using our phones, we could barely illuminate a couple of feet ahead of us. The darkness was oppressive.
We patrolled along the edge of the forest, calling out for Avi.
It was close to midnight when we made our way back to the house. We were tired, worried, and more than a little exhausted. Leslie was freezing. She hadn’t exactly dressed for a long outing.
“I can’t get a call through,” said Taylor. “Should we just walk?”
“I only got 15% battery,” said Leslie. “I don’t wanna move in the dark.”
“So none of you can get a hold of someone?” I asked. “My texts just turn red. Can’t be sent.”
They both shook their heads. I’d seen them staring face down at their phones for the past two hours, and we were still nowhere closer to getting a call through. Also, no wonder we were running low on batteries.
As Taylor gave Avi one last call, we waited patiently. Except this time, I heard something. It was faint, but definite. I held up my hand, signaling for the other two to stop and listen.
It was coming from outside.
By now, it was too dark to see. I could hear a phone ringing out there, but I couldn’t see where it came from. Leslie anxiously paced back and forth, as if wondering why we weren’t going out there to talk to him, but we could all tell there was just something… off.
Even in the dark, at this distance, I could tell something was out there. The sound from the phone seemed to move irregularly. It was slightly muffled, as if covered in something. Even Leslie seemed to notice it.
Then, the sound sunk. It fell from a sudden height. We heard a splash from the well as the call disconnected.
The three of us just stood there, dumbfounded. Taylor crept up close to me, whispering.
“Did he just throw his goddamn phone into the well?”
“Somebody did,” I responded.
It wasn’t a conscious thought, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Avi wouldn’t just throw stuff away for no reason.
We had to get a closer look.
I volunteered to go check, but Taylor wouldn’t let me go alone. Using Taylor’s phone as a flashlight (it had the most remaining battery), the two of us were to move forward in unison. We were gonna be really careful and slowly retreat back to the house at the first sign of trouble.
Making our way out through the back door, we slowly stepped through the overgrown grass. There was a slight crunching noise, as if the grass was covered in frost – peculiar, given the season. Taylor squeezed my arm, her head flicking about as she looked for threats in the dark.
We got to the edge of the well, where we stopped to listen. There was nothing out there. No birds, no insects, nothing. No ambient light from the city, no idle chatter, no background noise. As someone who was used to sleeping with a TV show running in the background, the emptiness was… palpable.
I leaned over the edge, shining a light into the well.
There was some sort of jacket at the bottom, but it was difficult to tell the color. The water was covered in algae, so it just looked like random fabric.
Then there was a reflection. A very expensive camera lens.
I stepped back, shaking my head. Taylor was playing with the bell again, pulling the rope for good measure, as if to check that it still wasn’t making any noise. She looked up at me expectantly.”
“I think his camera is down there,” I whispered.
“You’re still not hearing this thing, are you?”
I looked back at the bell, shaking my head. There were a few moments of quiet contemplation before she accepted this.
“We going back?” she whispered.
“We going back.”
We hurried back to the house. It was so quiet outside that I started to fill the silence with imaginary noises. I could imagine little whispers and footsteps out in the dark; vague threats spun out of nothing.
As we got back to the house, I could tell Leslie was upset.
“Just go ahead and let everyone know we’re here,” she complained. “Keep ringing the damn dinner bell.”
This time, we didn’t let it pass. It was too strange of a comment to just toss out of the left field.
“I didn’t hear anything,” I said.
“Same,” added Taylor.
“Well, I did,” said Leslie. “So make of that what you will.”
“No, I mean…what does that actually mean?”
We all looked out the kitchen window. Even now, in the dark, we could see the bell swaying gently from side to side; still caught in the breeze. And still, it didn’t make a sound.
We discussed this in hushed voices. Taylor and I had both picked up on Avi hearing the bell shortly before disappearing, but Leslie wouldn’t consider it. She tried to play it off as her simply not believing it, but I could tell she was scared. I think she was just trying to put on a brave face. A correlation between that sound and sudden disappearance was unnerving, to say the least.
We must’ve talked for half an hour, going back and forth on our options. We thought about locking ourselves in the car and waiting for the sun to rise; but if there was really someone out there looking for us or stalking us, locking ourselves in plain sight wouldn’t be the best option.
So instead, we opted to stay inside, check our phones, and keep quiet.
It was just past 1 am. We were sitting in what looked to be an old bedroom, but the bedframe had been stripped and leaned against the wall. There were gray spots on the floor where I guessed an old wardrobe or armoire had been standing for at least a couple of years. We settled for that room because the windows were still somewhat intact, and the drapes covered them completely. Still, the place smelled like a tetanus infection waiting to happen.
“I can’t believe you dragged me out here,” Leslie muttered.
“Excuse me, ‘dragged you’ out here? What do you mean?” Taylor added.
“I mean as in without having someone in front of the camera, all you’ll have are black and white photos of whatever,” Leslie continued. “But now? You got art. Something sexy, you know?”
“It doesn’t have to be sexy,” Taylor frowned back. “It’s for my portfolio.”
“Oh, so… so it was just for you all along, am I getting that right?”
The sarcasm was dripping, and I wasn’t having it. I zoned out.
I could hear something outside, but only barely. Leslie and Taylor were at each other’s throats, making it close to impossible to hear anything over the vitriol. I tried shushing them, but Leslie refused to be shushed, and Taylor refused to lose the argument by forfeiting. I tried two more times, in vain, until a sound snapped us all out of it.
A hand, smacking against the window.
We all stopped and looked up. I could see the silhouette of it, pressed against the window by the ambient light of the remaining phones.
It didn’t look right. The fingers were too long, too pointed. There was something off about the amount of fingers as well, but they were gone before I got the chance to count them.
We all just sat there, counting our breaths. We were afraid to move, not wanting to provoke whatever was out there. Then we heard another thump. Then another, from another window.
And from the other room, breaking glass.
A rattling door handle.
There were footsteps going back and forth outside our window. Hands sliding against the cheap outdoor panels. I turned my head back and forth so fast my neck was having trouble keeping up. My pulse kept rising with every sound, my eyes desperately trying to find movement in the dark as our phones died.
“Les, get to the bathroom,” Taylor whispered. “There’re frosted windows. They can’t see you.”
“Why do I have to go?!” she hissed back.
“They’re looking for you!” Taylor groaned. “Please, Les, it’s the safest place. We’re not safe together.”
I could see little movements. Heads turning my way. Honestly, I was too scared to concentrate. I just nodded.
“Let’s do it,” I said. “It’s safer.”
Leslie agreed. She moved at a snail’s pace, and the moment the bathroom door shut, Taylor pushed herself against it; leaving Leslie stranded on the other side. At first I didn’t realize what was happening. Then I started hearing banging on the door. I tried saying something, but was immediately cut off.
“What are you-“
“I’m saving us!” Taylor hissed. “Now help me with this goddamn door!”
There was a push from the other side, but Taylor held it close. Leslie was trying to get out, quietly knocking on the door.
“There’s no window!” she cried from the other side of the door. “T-This… it’s wide open!”
At first, it was pleading. Begging, hammering on the door, offering up whatever bribe she could think of. But as the panic rose, she started to turn to threats. Leslie told us in explicit detail what she would do to us as soon as the door came down.
And outside, I could hear something moving. Those things were coming her way. Shuffling footsteps. Something scraping against the walls.
The banging on the door grew more frantic. I joined Taylor in holding it shut as Leslie launched into a desperate rant. Then, out of nowhere, it stopped. Her silenced voice left a vacuum in the air as we heard something snap. Moments later, something was slowly dragged across the tiled bathroom floor.
Taylor and I just sat there, leaning against the bathroom door, and one another. I couldn’t believe we’d just done that, but I tried telling myself we didn’t have a choice. The shuffling noises grew more distant. As my breathing slowed, Taylor whispered to me.
“I think… I might have seen the spare keys,” she said. “When I was checking the glove box earlier. We ought to check.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Not even a little. But every car has spares, and I don’t think I’ve seen you use yours. Maybe you forgot them in there?”
“Maybe,” I agreed, furrowing my brow. “Let’s… can we wait a bit?”
“Sure,” she nodded. “Let’s wait a bit.”
We decided to give it a shot. We split up. I went to check the car for spares while Taylor went to check what happened to Leslie.
Those few minutes of sneaking into the car must’ve been some of the most stressful in my life. While nothing happened, it was so oppressively dark that I could barely see my own hands in front of me. I must’ve fumbled around for ten minutes or so, but I couldn’t find anything. Frustrated, I moved back towards the house – my hands still trembling.
As soon as I got back in, I could sense that something was wrong. Taylor was nowhere to be seen, and I couldn’t hear her. The door to the back yard was wide open. As I stumbled around in the dark, I accidentally knocked over the thrift store painting by the entrance. The clatter of the wooden frame startled me enough to knock the air out of my lungs.
But looking down at it, I noticed something.
There was text on the back of the frame.
Ring the dinner bell three times
A great prize will be yours
I could barely make it out in the dark, but it was right there on the back. The same painting that Taylor had been checking out when she first entered the house.
And as I read it, I heard something. This long, uncomfortable, droning sound.
It was nothing like a bell ought to sound like. The vibrations were like something emerging from underwater; each pulse making my stomach churn, like milk turning sour. It was something vile. Unusual. I could almost feel it running across my skin like stale water. Disgusted, I made my way to the back yard door. I already knew what I’d see.
Taylor had rung the bell a third time. She’d rung it for Avi, she’d rung it for Leslie, and now she’d rung it for me.
I could see the shape of her out there, in the dark. But there were many others. They were coming from the forests, from down the road, around the bend of the house. These vague elongated humanoid shapes; like starved, stretched-out shadow men.
It didn’t take me long to realize I was surrounded.
Now, my options were limited. Everything was telling me to run, but I had no idea where to. My mind was playing a loop of fight, flight, and freeze. I moved away of them, trying to get some distance. They were circling me. I kept turning, almost tripping over my own two feet. They were so quiet. Ethereal.
I ended up at the edge of the well, surrounded on all sides. Taylor had retreated into the dark crowd, who moved out of her way like a parting wave. I called out to her, but there was no response. Instead, this cloud of aggressors moved closer and closer.
So with only one way left to go; I jumped into the well.
I plunged into the ice-cold water. It was deeper than anticipated, breaking my fall. I could feel various cloth and debris, but it was hard to tell what was what in the dark. It wasn’t until I caught hold of a shoe that I started to realize what was down there. Especially when I realized there was still a foot inside.
While the bodies themselves hadn’t been dumped down there, it was clear that these were remains. Clothes, mostly, and little bits and pieces that hadn’t been consumed. Leslie’s piercings and shoes. Avi’s clothes and gear. It was all there.
Looking up, I saw these vague forms looking down on me.
But that’s where it stopped. They didn’t climb down or move to pursue. Instead, they turned their attention elsewhere. The thought hit me that if this was where they stored waste, perhaps they had stopped considering me food. Maybe they refused to pick something out of the trash.
But that meant they would go looking for it elsewhere. The bell had already been rung.
With that realization, there was a loud scream. It was immediately cut short. I could hear bones breaking and clothes being torn. A careful slurping sound, like meat being pulled into a vacuum. The ripping of skin from limb.
In mere minutes, more things started dropping down the well. Pieces of Taylor’s clothes. Fragments of bone and jewelry. And finally, the camera she’d borrowed.
Then, there was just shuffling. They kept moving around up there, as if waiting for something, or someone.
But nothing came.
I waited down there until the morning sun broke through. I was hypothermic, but very much alive. The inner walls of the well were actually rough enough for me to get my feet in the cracks. Fishing out the car keys from what I presumed was Avi’s discarded trousers, I made a painstaking climb upwards.
I must’ve been near a slip at least a dozen times, but I somehow kept making gains. And with considerable, soul-drenching, exhausting effort, I rolled out of the well.
I just lay there in the grass for a while, letting the shivers melt from my bones. As I did, I noticed something new.
The birds were singing again.
Chances are you never heard of any of this. It was mentioned at like… the third page of a stateside newspaper. They called it some sort of death pact, claimed there was all kinds of evidence for it too. I can tell you for certain; there wasn’t.
Looking into it, I did find that Taylor had done some research on the place prior to taking us there. Apparently, the bell was rumored to only be heard by the next victim. And if you were to manage a successful third feeding, you’d get “a gift that could rival the Yearwalker”.
Whatever that means.
In hindsight, she was clever about it. Maybe she didn’t know there was a loophole. Hell, neither did I.
But I still feel like there’s something from that day that is stuck within me. The memories, of course. That feeling of dread that I can wake up to at night. But there’s also that bell. That chime.
It is more than just a thing, or a noise. It means something.
And ever since I heard it, I know what being prey sounds like.