General

I guess it makes sense for the bells to be so huge, for their sound rolled through the village as if it were a special sort of thunder, one that could laugh. Those bell peals danced as if in ballet shoes, as if the sound twirl through walls and windows. Those bell peals were as echoes of giggles, of the sounds of children as their form their loving bonds in fun play. I loved them; I always did.

General

The ringers had arrived in their Sunday best to call the faithful to worship and waited patiently for ten o'clock to strike. They clasped their ropes, each attached to a metal bell several feet tall and housed in the steeple. The resulting peal that echoed around the town was most keenly felt by the Reverend who sat in the vestry below with his hands clamped over his tender ears. He was nursing one of his migraines and each strike was a hammer to his head, reverberating his delicate brain in it's skull.

General

The bells rang in a peal. Normally this would signal a wedding or Sunday service. But it was midnight and the clanging that echoed through the valley was chaotic rather than melodic. It was a warning.