The Burning Bell: Prologue (Audio Book)
Seven hundred years ago, a fog of death swallowed the earth, wiping out every living thing it touched. While the deadly fog still rolled toward their country, the people of Ruth prayed to be saved. Their prayers were answered as a massive, mountain-sized Bell descended from heaven—the Burning Bell: God. The Bell spread massive brass chains at the borders of the country. Their ends burrowed into the ground and halted the fog’s life-taking advance. The roaring, holy flame at the end of its clapper invigorated the land and powered the country, allowing Ruth to survive independently from the damaged world comfortably. Ruthians loved and worshiped the Burning Bell above the clouds and wished to join it in heaven. The Bell granted such a wish as people would be chosen to be “saved.” Giving one’s soul to the flames to be granted blissful eternity was sought by the devout. Before the Bell no longer spoke to the humans directly, it gave a piece of heaven to them; it sent its children below. The Chimes. These holy creatures had ivory skin, ebony nails, golden eyes, and brass blood. Beings with numerous divine powers to continue the Burning Bell’s adoration and assistance while it slumbered or tended to other godly motives. They healed the sick, eradicated crime, provided tools, and provided services for free. Life was good, but after a couple hundred years, some Chimes began to see humans as inferior. Like cattle, pets, or infants. They abused their power and made life difficult on a whim. Those heretics who wanted to retaliate became a secret society known as the Dowsers. They wished to extinguish the Bell’s flames and free themselves from its influence. Guerrilla warfare would dot itself on the map of Ruth. But the Dowsers had an unrealistic goal: the Chimes were immortal and far beyond the mundane world. Maiden Sympha, the clergy’s topmost authority, and the Burning Bell’s direct word, sought peace. Sympha spread love and understanding wherever she graced with her presence. But she could only hold back the inevitable for so long. War would happen, and it would be cruelly one-sided.
The Encounter
The young girl was able to squirm and escape from her mother. Nothing was more boring to her than attending church and giving her prayers to a hunk of brass in the sky. She crawled and slipped through the legs of a crowd while her mother demanded, “Vora, get back here!” Some mourning doves were pecking at stale bread thrown out by a baker. They cooed, wooed, and tapped the tip of their beaks on the cobblestone sidewalk in front of a brass bench. Vora wanted in on that action. If she could grab a bird, it might be her pet. She dashed, leaped into the air, and bellyflopped at the center of the cote. Naturally, they scattered and flew. A sweet, slow, motherly voice caused Vora to lift her chin. “My, aren’t you playful. You’re very pretty, as well….” The Chime was taller than any tree Vora had seen, at least from her current angle. She wore a dazzling ballroom dress of crimson. Her blonde hair was thick, and her golden eyes were inviting. Her ebony lips had a sweet, subtle curve upward, and her ivory skin was soft. Maiden Sympha. “I know.” Vora stood and ran a fleshy comb through her purple locks. “I’m pretty and adorable. And cute. And great.” “And modest as well,” the Maiden joked. “Big Chime lady, have you met God?” “Of course.” “Oooo. You’re amazing.” The Maiden kneeled. “How did you injure your arm?” An ebony nail spiked toward the bandage on Vora’s arm. “The neighbor cut their arm accidentally. My arm hurt too. My mom didn’t believe me, so I put the bandage on myself.” “That’s called empathy. It’s a great asset in life.” “I don’t very much like it. It hurts.” The Maiden’s hand entered her dress and pulled out a little bell with a wooden handle. She rang it over Vora’s bandage. “Is that better?” “Yeah, it’s better,” Vora said coyly. “You may have this, child. If you’re ever in pain, ring this bell over the injury, and the pain will disappear. Just don’t get too reckless; there’s only so much it will do.” Vora took the bell and held it over one shoulder like it was a weapon. She grinned stupidly. “Vora, if you were to ask the Burning Bell for one wish, what would it be?” Vora rubbed her chin, rubbed it like those detectives on the MP. “I guess. I want to live with my family and friends forever. I love them, and they love me. And I want to go somewhere beautiful. And I want to get married. And I want a house. And kids. And—” “Those are splendid wishes,” Sympha interrupted awkwardly. “And I want to live normally…”
The Departure
Vora!” A tall, thin woman with black hair ran up, scaring away the mourning doves that had just settled in after their prior spook. “Vora, don’t run away. I’m so sorry, Maiden. Please forgive my daughter. I—” The Maiden held up a palm. “Nothing to forgive. I always have time for the ones I love.” Madeline grabbed her daughter’s hand. “Thank you. Come on. It seems like you’ve already got your prayers in. Tonight we’re….” The voice became quieter as the pair shrank. The Maiden thought she saw something unsettling, but it must have been the light. The girl, young Vora, turned her head for one last glance, and the Maiden could have sworn that her left eye had turned dull, white, and cracked.
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