Every few weeks at the same time a bell tolls somewhere in my house. A solemn knell that silences the night and wakes me up without fail. It was impossible to tell where it originated from but it seemed to echo around my skull near to the point of pain. For months it puzzled me, even frightened me at first. So I decided to stay up one night and see if there was pattern, face the dark silence and see what was on the other side.
The night came, and with it, right on queue the bell sang it’s awful song out into the night. Everything went still. A chill came through my body and everything seemed to get colder and darker somehow. Darker than the darkest night you or I had ever seen. The only light that remained I could see flooding around the corner of my kitchen door, outlining its frame. Cautiously I walked to the door, almost autonomously.
My mind kept saying turn around, run as far as you can. Something primal in me awoke however, a burning curiosity. So I opened the door. Ever so quietly and slowly. What I saw, was a handheld kerosine lantern that was lit. I swear I had seen it before, maybe an antique of my grandad’s that was left in storage in my basement? It felt, forgotten. I don’t know how else to describe it other than that, a deep, sorrowful, forgotten lantern.
I picked it up. Again, I don’t know why I did this, but I did. As soon as I did I heard that awful bell again, this time it left my ears ringing. I staggered for a moment until it sounded again. It was coming from the basement. I figured, I have light now and know where that bell is. Maybe I should just deal with it tonight.
So I walked downstairs into what felt like a cold New England winter in the dead of night. It was getting to be autumn around this time so for my basement to be this cold already, something was certainly awry. I slowly crept down the stairs until I got to the bottom. I turned the corner and I saw the strangest thing. A large brass bell, one that might’ve been in a church tower, hanging from my basement ceiling. It was covered in vines and it’s wooden supports looked like they may turn to dust at any moment. The brass had crimson handprints stained into it and there was a pool of what I had to assume was blood beneath it.
Just then, it rang once more and it called me to do something. As to what I wasn’t so sure, until the doorbell rang. I ran back upstairs, hardly thinking straight after what I just saw and I set the lantern down on the kitchen table. I looked to see who was at the door and saw a lady there. In the background there was a car with its hazards on and a man trying to fix the engine.
I went to the front door and opened it. “Sorry to bother you so late, our car broke down. Can I use your phone?”
“Of course” I said, “it’s just downstairs”. I understood in that moment what the bell asked of me. The bell calls the guilty home, I must exact their judgement.