This was an assignment for Creative Writing class...




I met her one night, in the shadows of the old forgotten bell tower. She was a frightful spirit as old as the tower, her features plain as day, but transparent like tissue paper. In her eyes, lay a story that would leave me tearful. I remember when I saw her for the first time; she refused to tell me anything, but took comfort in my presence.
“I see you’ve come again.” She said on my fourth visit. I often came and sat alone with her at night, when the only sounds were that of the waves and when all other people were asleep. She spoke like she was unhappy, but never once told me to go. I think she enjoyed the company after such a long time of solitude.
I asked her to tell me her story, and she smiled a small rueful smile. “My story is too heartbreaking to tell all at once, so I shall tell you pieces at a time.” I nodded and urged her to continue. With a shaky breath she began her tale.
“So many years ago I lived happily with my husband,” she started, “We were so happy with a child on the way, our lives were perfect. Alas, a dark cloud hung over the country as my husband was taken to a distant land to fight a war we hand no business in. Before he left, he swore to return to me, and I promised to wait in the bell tower for him.”
Dawn drove me wearily home and I rested, playing over what she had told me thus far. I dreamed when I slept, that I was there watching her bid her husband a sad goodbye. Her belly was swollen with pregnancy and her husband patted the flesh fondly before kissing her and turning. When he was out of sight, over the hill, I watched her fall to the ground in sobs, her beautiful face in her hands as tears fled from her eyes. I felt my own heart wrench in pain as I watched her cry out in tears and as a nursemaid helped her off the ground and comfortingly lead her inside. My dreams were tormented with that visual until I returned a few nights later to the bell tower.
She was waiting there, as always, and seemed slightly happier to see me. I sat down and she smiled as she continued with her tale.
“A few more months passed since my husband left for war, and I fell ill with a sickness that had no cure. I recovered, thankfully, but my son was stillborn. My heart broke in more pieces. I began to stay in this tower for days at a time, and at night, I would ring the great bell into the darkness, bidding my love to follow its sound back home.
“Depression had grabbed hold and I was spending more and more time in this bell tower, watching the shore and the roads,” Her eyes were distant as she spoke and when she finished she focused them on me and smiled. “Another time.”
I knew better than to try to get her to tell more, so with a small smile I bid her farewell till the next time and left. When I arrived home, the sun hadn’t quite risen yet, and I made it to bed and rested with images of a beautiful woman in the top of the bell tower watching out over the land and shore with a distant and sad look upon her face.
Come the next day, I worked hard despite the distracting images my mind harbored of her. I worked and slept like a normal man until my next night off, when I returned to the bell tower.
She was sitting, waiting for me by the time I reached the top of the stairs. She motioned a pale, transparent, hand to a chair, and I sat. Her smile was warmer and calmer than I had seen it before.
“I waited for my husband in the bell tower, like I had promised, for many years. I had gotten to the point where I never left the tower. Not even my sister could bring me out of my haven.” She continued from before. “Years passed and I grew thin and weak, but every night I would ring the bell nonetheless. I still believed that my husband would return and I wanted to prove to him that I hadn’t given up hope.”
I listened intently as she gazed upon me with a familiar smile. “I waited and waited but no word from him. My body withered away and soon I died. I watched in soft silence as my sister’s son came and found my body. His face was impassive, at the least. I watched from the window as my funeral brought all my loved ones to my grave, but my husband was not there to mourn.”
She was looking out the window and towards a small graveyard, her face that of a woman deep in memory. “I rang the bell every night,” she continued, “despite my mortal body ceasing to exist. My hope was that the sound of the bells would guide my husband back home. I had long since accepted the possibility of death, but rang the bell anyway. Maybe his soul could hear the bell and find it’s way back to me.”
I stared at her with a sad look but she just smiled brightly. “I shall continue to ring the bell until the end of time, should he ever hear it, my patience would be worth it.”
The look on her face brought me great sadness, for such a beautiful and amazing woman should not be bound to this place by anything. I wanted to let her move on, to be with the husband that I knew had died almost one hundred years ago.
“Don’t give me that look.” She said, seeing the solemn look on my features. “I know you want me to go on, but I can’t. I made a promise to ring the bell every night and wait for him to come back, and do that I shall.”
I left the bell tower that night and never went back. I couldn’t watch her anymore, knowing there was nothing I could say to help her let go. The image of her spirit standing in the window of the bell tower plagues my mind nightly. I know she’s there still, waiting