Bells

The bells tolled slowly, one after another. It was no funeral that they proclaimed this time, nor a marriage. It warned of death, and a union that could not be stayed, The dark valley echoed with the sound, its dark trees seemed to sway slightly in the harmony. The sun had long set, but the moon was full and high and the clear sky. The cobbled streets were empty, even the animals had been taken away in the exitus.

The time had come again, it had long been anticipated but the specific time of its coming had been a shock to the denizens. No life stirred in the shadowy windows, no people came and went through the many doors. No cattle lowed in the barns, the sound of the bell went on and on, uninterrupted and uncontested.

For one had stayed when all others had fled. It was his duty and his vocation. He must warn of what would come, and warn he did. High in the churchtower he swung on the bellrope, pulling with a rhythm he had learned long ago.

He had kept few of his belongings, sending most of them away with the others. He kept an old letter, addressed to him and clearly written. That was all.

There was one more soul in the church that day. One that long ago found himself on the wrong side, on the side with the bell. Now was his chance to return to his place, though a home it was not. Long had he waited for this night.

The two worlds were coming together, as they had before and would again. And those with shadows must remember their names, their homes, their old lives. Or they would lost in the fog and the wandering souls. The wanderers must recall that they had none.

But the warning must be given. The bell tolled on.