[ COACH ] FALL
[ SONG | ARTIST ] Ringing The Bells For Jimmy | Johnny Cash
[ WATTPAD WORD COUNT ] 1,271 words
"There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes - die with despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed."
― Edgar Allan Poe
Though it was Christmas Eve, the tension didn't die down at the Mass. In fact, it only highlighted it more. There were only a hundred people gathered in packs of three, with a security officer tailing them always from behind.
It was because there were nine murders from all over the city-all young members of the Sacristy. Each one was clean, only traces of red rope burns on their necks due to hanging. But rather, a chilling bell sound preceded each one.
Nine mornings. Each one not different from the previous. People came and went to the church hoping that the completion of the tradition would relieve themselves of sin.
But every time they did, a reminder would crop in the form of a corpse and a sign beside it that says: "Blessed are the mute for they can't tell lies anymore."
"Father, something has got to be done about this," the church elders sprang on me upon my entrance. "The murders are getting out of hand."
I didn't answer. Instead, I closed my eyes and kept rubbing my fingertips against my temples. They began whispering and looking at me as though I have the right answers. But then, the church bells began to ring again...
"Father, will you please listen. We are scaring away the people. We will certainly lose... "
But the bells kept clanging louder and louder.
"...the priests would surely have our heads for this."
The bells wouldn't stop. I couldn't take it any longer.
"Stop," I snapped. And for a few seconds, there was silence.
I looked at the people around me. And I noticed that they all stopped talking. They all just looked at me as if I did something wrong.
"Did anybody hear the bells ring?" I asked tentatively. They didn't reply.
"No," one brave elder finally answered. "There weren't any bells, Father. It was only us talking."
I stiffened. What is it really true?
Suddenly, the noise around the room rose up. Aside from the looks, I heard snatches of them talking about what I just did.
Confusion rose inside me. I had to leave. So, I went.
On my way out, I saw a slightly older altar boy coming down from the church's bell tower. He was striding out of it casually as if nothing major happened. Because of that, heat rose up inside me. Could it be him? Did he just ring the bell and made them say they couldn't hear it? So, before he could run away, I ran after him and caught the hem of his sleeve.
"What did you do in there?" I asked.
"I was just-"
"Did you just ring the bell. Did you?" I said, tugging more forcefully at his garment.
"No, Father. I didn't-"
"Did. You. Ring. The. Bell. ANSWER ME!"
He looked at me with fear in his eyes. And at that moment, I realized that I already had him pinned down against the wall-my arms recklessly against his throat.
