Scary Stories, Rituals, and Urban Legends

The Bell in the Woods

Do not let the ancient bell buried deep within the woods frighten you.... Save your fear for the creature that answers its call.

My grandfather was a cruel man in every sense of the word. The only love he displayed was an unwavering infatuation with bourbon and abusive discipline. Being my only living relative, my childhood was bound to him and his farm by the constricting shackles of the law.

His cruelty and frugal practices drove farmhands and hired-help away as quickly as he could employ them. My place, however, was in the kitchen. "Cooking and cleaning are the only skills a little girl needs to know." These were the words grandfather tattooed to my psyche. As I grew older, he began to stare at me in a way that no family member ever should. Glassy, bloodshot eyes peered through the keyhole whenever I bathed or dressed. I could only turn away and quietly pray to myself for him to stop.

On the night he climbed into my bed, I ran— disappearing into the darkness of the woods.

Three days were all that I could bear. The pains of hunger eventually coerced my aching feet to shuffle back towards the farmhouse. As the dim light of dawn illuminated my defeated journey home, a dark object stuck out between the tall oak trees. I crept closer, bare feet crunching dry the leaves below.

There it was-- covered in decades of dirt, moss, and foliage; an ancient, cast-iron bell. It was taller than I was, etched with unfamiliar symbols and words I had never seen before. Without hesitation, as if against my own will, I grabbed the bell's rusty wheel and pulled. I felt an obligation to hear it ring out, freeing the instrument from the stillness of time. The loud tones shook the ground below my feet. The birds ceased their morning chorus, and the wind haunted as the earth froze. When the tolling quieted, reality rushed in and I continued my retreat back to the farm.

The beating I received from grandfather after crawling through the front door was unforgettable. Dark bruises and scars painted my pale skin like ink on canvas. The following morning was a mental and physical struggle just to get up. My body was tender and the aches served as both a harsh reminder of the past and a morbid glimpse into the future.

I made grandfather his breakfast of bacon and eggs, doing my best to avoid eye contact as he was nursing his third drink of the morning. When I made my way outside to begin my daily labors, two peculiarities took me by surprise. The first, and less strange being that all of my chores were already finished. The second oddity was the gaunt man in a dusty suit standing completely still in the cornfield.

I called for grandfather and he stumbled from his recliner, drunk and annoyed. I pointed to the man in the field. Without saying a word, he made his way towards the man and I followed behind, keeping my distance. Grandfather stopped a few feet from him. He was tall, taller than any man I had ever seen before. His long, bony limbs reminded me of crooked tree branches. His clothes were unusual; a charcoal-colored suit and matching hat. He reminded me of the men in the black-and-white films I fell asleep to at night. Grandfather called out to him and asked his business, but the man only smiled. His teeth were yellow and jagged. His eyes were beady and black-- I never saw him blink despite the hot, summer sun beaming down on his face. Grandfather inquired once more, and he was met with the same smiling-silence yet again. Infuriated, grandfather threatened to shoot him if he did not leave his land. Hearing this, I spoke-up and informed grandfather of the stranger's generous labor. Grandfather gave the man a confused look, which was quickly replaced once again with annoyance.

"I guess you are expecting payment for your work then? Is this your idea of an application?" Grandfather asked.

The man shook his head no-- the permanent smile still plastered to his wrinkled face.

Grandfather continued, "Well then what do you want, huh?"

The man slowly rubbed his flat belly in a circular motion.

Grandfather beamed. "Work for food? Now that's a deal I'll take any day! Come on back to my house and the girl will whip you up something to eat."

They strolled towards the house and grandfather commended him. As the man turned I noticed a deep, grotesque scar on his neck-- oozing green liquid. The lattice-pattern made it look as though he had once been cut in two and then sewn back together. I shivered in fear.

I prepared a lunch of sandwiches and potatoes for grandfather and the mysterious guest. When I set the plates down, the man tore into the food like a starving animal. Within only a few seconds, he handed me the spotless plate. Amazed, I took it back and prepared another helping for him. Again, he ate it with ferocity. I looked to grandfather and asked him what I was to do. He responded with the back of his hand and barked for me to make him more. And so I did. Eight servings later, the bizarre, lanky man was finally satiated.

After lunch the man quietly rose from the table, walked outside, and disappeared into the woods. I rummaged through the kitchen for any leftover scraps.

The next morning the man completed the chores before I awoke, and again I made him a meal of tremendous proportions. This routine continued for months; cooking and cleaning for grandfather and the gluttonous stranger. And still, he never spoke. As time went on our food diminished and my own hunger grew, both for food and freedom from the labor.

On a cold, winter afternoon our food finally ran out. The man had completed the daily chores and sat at the table ready to be served. I begged grandfather for grocery money and promised to be back quickly. Infuriated, he blamed me for the missing food and struck me over-and-over again until I was too dizzy to see straight. I stumbled out of the kitchen, and began to lose consciousness. Just before I did, I saw the tall man rise from the table in anger as grandfather yelled to him, "I said I ain't got no more food for ya!"

I awoke a few hours later to the smell of smoke, groggy and disoriented. I searched the house high and low, but grandafter and the man were missing. I stepped outside into the crisp air. The smokey smell was stronger. I followed it like a hound until it led me to a clearing in the woods.

There I discovered the source.

The tall man looked up, smiling at me with his sharp teeth and inkwell eyes. He stood near a fire and rotated a spit— roasting a corpse in the flames.

I sat in silence and watched the tall man eat every last morsel of meat from grandfather's charred bones— just before slithering back into the ground— waiting for the dinner-bell to ring once again.

And I walked out of the woods, smiling... free for the first time in my life.

XOXO Jade