Before The Bell

Before The Bell

Frantically I start to dig. I can hear scratches surface from beneath.The moon is settled high, glowing in a pearl essence of blue. The air is thick with the sultry of pine, the fog dense, wolves cling to the outer rims of the woods.

My heart is petrified at the situation at hand. I do not know what has me caused for such concern nor the itch to have taken such a route home. A full moon always seems to create a curious angst within me. Sleep is never my fellow company on such a night.

As I dig, I begin feel a dampness cling to my skin. It is like a cool sweat, my hands are becoming exhausted. But what ever lies beneath this earth seems to have something to say. The sound of scratches become more methodically frantic; as does my digging.

The howls of the wolves fill the crisp air with an ominous mood. The hairs on my neck stand, goosebumps crowd my flesh. I begin to talk to what ever it is that is buried beneath these abandoned grounds.

"I'm going to get you out, just hang on!"

As I draw closer and closer to the scratching, I begin to imagine what would surface. A beast? A ghost? An animal?

Taking in a heavy breath I think to myself,

"Maybe a person...a living breathing human being? But who would do such A thing?

I retract my thoughts and bring myself down from the hollow horrors that may rest beneath me. I continue to dig. A cluttered symphony of emotions permeate from my body. Only a few more feet, I begin to shake nervously. My hands covered in dirt, my nails dulled by the resistant earth.

My heart curating the rush of my blood as my mind request the eruption of adrenaline. My imaginations begins to erode of gentle thoughts; as I reach the last six inches that separates what ever creature lies to be unearthed.

My last few frantic rips through the soil and I hit something. I quickly force the remaining dirt aside and there, at my knees, I see a plank of wood. I force more and more dirt aside. Enough till I can clearly see what it is that has been buried.

To my unorthodox surprise, it's a coffin. My heart instantly sinks to my gut. I hear no more scratching. I talk to what ever, or who ever is inside. I find the edge of the coffin and pull it open.

I look, and Inside, lies the body of child.

I stand up with a gut of sorrow, I release the bowls of my stomach, look up and read the tomb.


"Born 1792-1802"
Thank you for reading, hope this made your heart rush a little bit. 

Did you know, there was time when bells were placed above graves with a string that lead into the coffin? It was there just in case the person buried was still alive and they could ring the bell? 

What to hold some original stories of my in your own hands? A Man's Traveled Heart

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