[ COACH ] Fall
[ SONG | ARTIST ] Ringing The Bells For Jimmy | Johnny Cash
[ WATTPAD WORD COUNT ] 1,186 words
That day, I believe, was the saddest Christmas I ever experienced.
It was the same old tradition in our town, Cerulea, in this every year holiday. Townspeople are busying themselves to decorate and flood the streets with colorful lights and Christmas ornaments; the children laughing amongst each other as they play along the snow covered roads; even the faint smell of roasted chicken was evident in the cool air. Nevertheless, everyone was experiencing happiness.
For me, as an acolyte who serves and assists a priest in public worship, Christmas eve is a very busy day. It is the last day of midnight mass, in which everyone who completed all masses expects their wishes to be granted by God. Of course, I was present throughout nine masses, so I want a wish of mine to be granted as well.
Cerulea town was considered to be a town of faithful worshippers. Though we only have a small population, everyone could be expected to be loyal attenders to our church, considering we are the only church throughout Cerulea town.
The streets and houses might be extremely busy and crowded tonight, but expect it at midnight, any place everywhere would be emptied aside from the church.
"Raki, you're still up here. The mass would be starting in ten minutes," a familiar authoritative voice said to me from behind. It's the head priest.
I faced him and bowed in respect. "Father, I'm sorry for slacking off. I'll be heading downstairs in a moment."
Unusually, I didn't get a response. I looked up and saw a gentle smile plastered on the head priest's face. "I think you don't get my point, my son."
He walked over towards my place and stopped beside me, looking over the open window. This is my favorite spot in the whole building, the topmost floor where the huge golden church bell resides. Aside from being an altar attendant, I was also the bell ringer. And I love what I do. Overlooking the whole town and having the tower be dimly lit by the moonlight was such a gratifying bonus, but it couldn't compare to the honor of ringing this bell that the whole Cerulea town hears.
"What I'm saying is you still have ten minutes to enjoy your view up here. And I would love to join you," he said.
I looked at him in sheer disbelief. "But Father! The mass will start soon. We have so much work to do. We should be preparing," I argued.
Father remained calm and showered me with his gentle smile. "Worry not, my son. The Lord never let His activities fail. We, as servants, should not doubt. Haven't we done this eight times already? Why would He not let the last be a victory?"
I realized the priest's wise reasoning. But I couldn't help but get troubled. So I tried to reason in a small voice. "But, it is not the same as the masses before. It's Christmas eve, so I'm expecting our hands to be full."
The head priest laughed. "I could see myself in you when I was the same age. Like you, I'm still new in serving God's church. How long have you been here? Four months? Five?" he asked.
"Five and a half, Father," I answered.
"Yes. Have you heard about the famous legend of Cerulea town, the 'Nine Midnight Bells'? I suppose not, right? You're new in this town."
I shook my head, just as he suggested.
"I'd love to share the story to you, later. But for now, let us focus with the mass. It should be starting any minute now."
****
Just as I expected, the church is full tonight. But my imagination betrayed me, for this crowd was totally exceptional. I'd never seen so much people. I couldn't focus. My hands were trembling.
Focus, Raki. Focus.
I repeated the mantra in my head over and over. Good thing we're in the middle of the sermon. I don't think anyone is particularly looking at me.
Then it happened. The bell unprecedentedly rang out of the blue. Everyone looked at my direction--even the priest--knowing I'm the bell ringer. It's not me, obviously, but no one aside from me was allowed to do so.
I was about to run and check the tower when my fellow acolyte grabbed my right sleeve and slowly shook his head.
I noticed the people sighed and acted as if nothing unusual just happened. Even the priest proceeded with the sermon.
What's wrong with the people?
I went back to my position, and I was sulking throughout the whole mass. I didn't even notice it had ended already.
I didn't understand what's going on. Was that a usual occurence for them? I don't think so, because I can't think of anything to explain what just happened.
After the mass, I quickly ran towards the tower where the church bell is placed. If I'm lucky, the culprit must still be there. But when I got there, the whole place is empty. I sighed and plopped over the window.
"You want me to explain what happened? I know your mind full of questions right now," the priest said. He walked over and sat beside me, are backs leaning on the wall of the window.
"What happened, my son, is related to the legend I'm about to tell you. It's not really that old or ancient. It happened on Christmas eve 40 years ago. Just like tonight, in the middle of the mass, the bell rang. For nine times. The priest at that time, together with an acolyte, went up in this same tower to see who rang the bell. There they saw a little girl, eyes covered in tears, trying to pull the rope for the last time. But it failed her," the priest said.
Then I realized something. "But in our town, ringing the bell nine times signifies death."
"You are right. That's why, she forced herself to do one last ring, so that it would mean healing." He paused for a moment, then a lonely smile dominated his face. "She pleaded the priest, saying, 'Please, father, I'm ringing the bells for my brother Jim. He's dying. But he'll be healed once he hears this. So please, help me ring this one last time.'
Her body is to weak to pull the rope that much. But she didn't mind. She stood up and went to the rope, but the priest stopped her, for he knew the girl's body was way past her limits."
I shifted in my place and continued to listen. Then the priest added, "To make the story short, the acolyte servant was the one who rang the bell for one last time. But that healing was meant for Jim, the girl's brother. And it was too late to ring for another ten for the girl."
"You mean she died?" I asked.
"Yes, she died. And after that, every year on Christmas eve, the bell would ring for nine times. Thus, the legend of the Nine Midnight Bells was born. After that, Jim worked for the church and is now a full-fledged head priest," he said standing up from his seat.
"Then that means. . ." I trailed off.
"Yes, I am Jim. And that little girl, is my sister." He smiled, remembering his memories of her.
