Chapter 17: The Distant Bells

It was an ordinary morning. Or at least, it should have been. I sat at my usual spot by the window, sipping a cup of coffee, and watching the world unfold as it always did. The sun was barely creeping over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets below. People moved about their routines—commuters rushing to catch buses, joggers making their early morning rounds, the bakery down the street already pulling its first trays of bread from the oven. Everything was as it should be.

But something wasn't right.

At first, I couldn't put my finger on it. It was a subtle thing, like a strange tickle at the back of my mind. A sense that something was out of place, though I couldn't tell what. I tried to shake it off, telling myself it was just one of those mornings when the mind plays tricks. But then, I heard it.

A bell.

Faint, distant, barely audible over the quiet hum of the city. But it was there—a soft, steady ringing, like church bells, only softer, gentler. I frowned, straining to listen. There were no churches nearby, not within hearing distance. The sound didn't belong.

I put down my coffee and leaned toward the window, my heart skipping a beat as I tried to locate the source. But the sound was elusive, like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. It seemed to float on the air, carried by the wind, but it was too faint to pin down.

And then it stopped.

The silence that followed felt too thick, too heavy. I sat back in my chair, my pulse quickening as an unease settled over me. Maybe it was just some kind of echo, I thought. A sound from further away than I could identify. Bells rang all the time in the city, right?

I took another sip of my coffee, but the taste felt bitter now. I tried to focus on the normalcy outside, the flow of the day, but the more I watched, the more things began to feel…off.

The street below wasn't moving right.

It was subtle at first. A car would pass by, but it seemed to take a second too long to cross the intersection. A pedestrian would stop mid-step, lingering in place for what felt like just a heartbeat longer than they should. The jogger across the street seemed to be moving too smoothly, as if the air itself wasn't resisting them.

My fingers tightened around the mug. Was I imagining this? I blinked hard, trying to shake the feeling, but every time I looked back, something else seemed wrong. Like the world had been paused, just slightly, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

And then, the bell rang again.

This time, it was louder.

I stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as I moved toward the window. The sound was clearer now, but still distant, echoing through the air like a warning. It sent a shiver down my spine. I leaned against the glass, searching the horizon for any sign of where it was coming from.

But there was nothing. Just the same quiet street, the same people going about their lives—too slowly, too deliberately. As if they were caught in a loop.

The bell rang again, and this time, it was unmistakable.

It wasn't a church bell.

It was a funeral bell.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a cold chill wash over me. The sound was unmistakable now, a slow, mournful tolling that reverberated deep in my chest. But there were no funerals today. No processions, no black-clad mourners to explain the sound.

And yet, the bell rang on.

I stepped back from the window, a growing sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. I tried to convince myself that it was nothing, just a sound carried by the wind from some far-off place. But I couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that. That it was for me.

The bell tolled again, and I swore it was closer this time.

I grabbed my jacket from the chair and headed for the door. I couldn't stay here, not with that sound haunting the air. I needed to get out, to walk, to clear my head.

As I stepped outside, the world felt wrong.

The air was too still. The usual noises of the city—the chatter of people, the hum of traffic, the birds—were muted, as if someone had turned down the volume on life itself. The bell rang again, louder now, so loud I could almost feel it vibrating in my bones.

I started walking, my feet moving faster than my thoughts could keep up with. The sound followed me, each toll growing louder, closer, more insistent. It wasn't coming from any one direction now—it was all around me, echoing off the buildings, resonating in the empty spaces between the streets.

I turned a corner and froze.

The street ahead was empty.

Utterly empty.

The buildings stood silent, the windows dark, and there wasn't a single person in sight. The bell rang again, and this time, it was deafening. My heart raced as I took a step back, my mind scrambling to make sense of what was happening.

But there was no sense to be found.

The world had changed around me. The normalcy of the morning was gone, replaced by a creeping unease that made my skin crawl. I could still hear the bell, loud and clear, but now it was accompanied by something else. A voice.

It was faint, almost indistinguishable from the tolling of the bell, but it was there—soft, whispering words I couldn't quite understand. It was as if the sound was trying to tell me something, to pull me deeper into this strange reality that had swallowed the world whole.

I turned to leave, but my feet wouldn't move.

The voice grew louder, clearer now, though the words still eluded me. I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin as the tolling bell seemed to slow, its rhythm drawing out into long, mournful notes.

The voice whispered again, and this time, I understood.

It was calling my name.